One of the symptoms of COVID House Arrest is you start going down a lot of “rabbit holes” on your computer. I realized things might be getting out of hand when I actually Googled “Derivation of phrase going down rabbit hole.”
Look it up for yourself. I’m not your mama.
With so much extra time (and sanitizer) on my hands these days—I just dusted the light bulb in the beer fridge for the SECOND time—I’ve discovered it takes little provocation to research something, anything that might distract from the “unseen enemy” as the president insists on calling the coronavirus. Such a drama queen.
Which is how I arrived at the most incredible website: FindingMyRepublicanGoddess.com.
Go ahead. I’ll wait.
Because how can you NOT investigate this?
My friend, “L,” shared her discovery with me via text and I responded “all in.” She is the same person who told me about all the iterations of “90 Day Fiance” so I trust her reccs completely.
Sadly, it’s not exactly what I’d hoped—hordes of well-scrubbed Republicans looking to escape the ho-jum likes of Hinge in search of more of their own kind.
Nope, it’s just one guy. And he is, as Aunt Verlie might say, a few sandwiches short of a picnic.
I’m not saying he’s not a nice man, but let’s just say he has very unusual standards when it comes to finding his Republican Goddess.
As in, there’s a lengthy—and weird—vetting questionnaire. Did I take it? Well, of COURSE I took it because “dammit Jim, I’m a scientist!” In my mind.
Sadly, I kept getting kicked out of the questionnaire because apparently I was nobody’s idea of a Republican goddess. Huh.
Things hit the skids at Question 1, which was basically “how much do you love President Trump?” (a lot, more than my children or just enough to get in the country club)…
I should’ve realized when he prefaced the questionnaire by saying he considered Trump and his “personal guru” to be the two greatest living heroes, where we were headed with this.
It didn’t take this “deep state loving feminist” to figure out you could just go back and try again. I hit all the right answers and easily arrived at the page which assured me I was in the running.
Is a man who wears a short-sleeved sports shirt with a TIE and who boasts of mad “tantric skill” the best match for me? Mmmmm. No. Besides, I’m already married, although it should be noted our guy is very much in favor of plural marriage – and, interestingly, plural divorce.
It broke my heart a little when he admitted he wasn’t perfect. “I need dental implants and wear hearing aids” and he hinted at a “third health issue” which he would discuss on a need to know basis.
And now I REALLY need to know.
There’s a lid for every pot so I hope he finds his honey. But he might want to go easy on the tantric talk. Makes him sound like a Democrat.
Celia Rivenbark needs some more Netflix suggestions, y’all.