Allan, I think the answer is simple.
Imagine each of their wedding nights. Trump strips down to his blubbery, orange tinted, odorous flesh. He removes the bird’s nest on his head. The bride then also realizes Trumplethinskin doesn’t even have a penis. Just a tiny little orange nub.
This ghoulish vision results in abject, spine-tingling terror. It’s then followed by a permanent muteness, a form of trumpian PTSD. For which there is no recovery, no treatment. Ever. Each of the three have become a Trumpford Wife. All rational thinking is gone.