I’m Dating a Socialist

“She’s always talking about how men and women should do equal work, which is great because she goes on top half the time during sex.”

My family and friends are normally pretty accepting people. They were supportive when I first told them I was joining the Liberal party. Sure, dad was a bit put out when I campaigned for Malcolm instead of Pauline at the 2016 election. But we bonded again when Peter made his bid for PM. Dad and I had a good yell at the TV when the lefties stopped our boy from taking the job that’s rightfully his. But I’ve been struggling to explain the most recent development in my life to dad. I’ve been struggling to explain it to myself.

I’ve started dating a socialist.

On September 15 2018, I was on Eastern Avenue when I saw a poster for the ‘SOCIALISM’ conference. Being opposed to socialism and all the violent oppression of free speech it has led to, I started pulling down the posters. But suddenly a hand grabbed me around the wrist. A beautiful, slender hand, with the letters ‘U’, ‘S’, ‘S’ and ‘R’ tattooed on its knuckles. I stared up, and locked eyes with a beautiful face.

I always thought I wanted an Ayn Rand.

But I’d found my Svetlana instead.

socialist heart

She showed me her petition, and asked me to fill it out with my name and number. I wrote it all down. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

I feel a bit dirty when I’m with her, like I’m doing something taboo. When we go out, she always pays half the bill, which I’m ethically opposed to, but now I find it turns me on. She’s always talking about how we should tax the rich, so I transfer her part of my dad’s allowance. She goes on about how men and women should do equal work, which is great because she goes on top half the time during sex.

But when I go to conservative club meetings, I’m gripped by a terrifying guilt. What would they think of me? We make jokes about the poor like normal, but I feel hollow inside. And sometimes they laugh about Socialist Alternative and this rage bubbles up inside me, as red as the hammer and sickle.

Oh god what have I become? Will my family ever talk to me again? Is there such a thing as socialist conversion therapy?