In search of a leftie

I made a resolution once; I shall not pull any more Tories. I first made this resolution back when the people I was playing tonsil tennis with became old enough to start forming political opinions, around 2009. Every year since I have failed miserably.

Despite the fact that I believe that to be right wing you must be lacking the basic human emotion of empathy, I can’t help but fall into romantic liaisons with them. I have even managed to find conservative lesbians, and now Cameron wants to make friends with the gays this type will only take hold.

Me circa ’09 – nice bit of tonsil tennis

Only last term I looked up with hope at my chosen companion for the night,

“Are you a Tory?”

“No!” he answered. I paused as my heart filled with hope for our future union member babies, but then,

“Ha ha rah rah, no lolz, of course I am, don’t be silly.” My hopes crashed to the floor, sitting there like a puddle of uncollected corporate tax.

So 2014, the year to be proactive about this spouse finding business, time to get off Tinder for a second and do this the old-fashioned way. Although quite rigid in my leftie beliefs, I have yet to be an active member of the university Labour club. First step, I like them on Facebook.

A page full of wonderful lefties

My eyes scan the page and my heart leaps, as a fizzled fling from last term appears on the members list, I’m about to booty call, when on closer inspection I realize this is the suggested members list. Sadly there is no possible recyclables on the members list. I’m going to have to put in some new ground work.

Every week I scan the DULabour email with hope; maybe this week they will organize a meeting so I can find my future life partner. Every week DULabour’s pint and policy meetings clashed with formals, with FemSoc, with tonsillitis. I now have less than 4 months in Durham, the place where I’m statistically most likely to meet ‘the one’. It was like there was a higher being making me get with Tories.

It’s this sort of shit, Tinder

But this Wednesday I decided to get serious. If I’m going to find a lover I’m going to have to prioritize it. Feminism could manage without me, I went husband-hunting.

The Labour meeting started well, I spotted my definitely fanciable neighbour from last year. Who knew he was politically passionate. I re-introduced myself and he said he agreed with my police article; it was like we were made for each other!

I chose my seat, and guess who sat next to me… hot neighbour guy! It was all going so well until he announced that he had to leave early, but that was no matter since we were already 2 peas in a pod.

I told the nice girl sitting on the other side of me about this article, and that even though I was probably going to take the piss, I actually found the meeting really interesting. That’s when I mentioned the husband hunting and hot neighbour guy, only to get the response:

“You do know he’s my boyfriend…”

Awkward.

Turns out him sitting next to me was probably him sitting as close as he can to his girlfriend rather than him wanting to be as close as possible to my knickers.

Back to square one then.