There’s a new way of breaking up with your misogynist boyfriend. It’s called Drumpfing.
When you think of breaking up with your significant other, a somber, uncomfortable scenario naturally comes to mind.
It’s not you, it’s me.
But it doesn’t have to be you anymore. Now more than ever, white men are forced into a position where they must prove themselves as true allies of feminism and proponents of coat-hanger abortions. Or else, it’s them.
So how do you reach a woke enough status to where you can Drumpf your boo, and not just dump him? Well, meet my ex-boyfriend, Josh.
Josh was kind, faithful, and most of all, he loved to make me laugh. To say the least, Josh was the type of guy who made it unbelievably hard for even the Nastiest Woman to break up with. That is, until I realized he was white.
I have to admit, Josh had me fooled for quite a while. As someone who voted for Obama in 2008 and 2012, he was all about equal pay for women. But like so many males who dealt with the aftermath of Trump’s election by “pushing onward” as if nothing had changed, his true colors began to show, and I gradually started to see red.
Take his job at the movie theater. At the start of 2017, he decided to abandon his dignified position as Projectionist by accepting a promotion to Manager. Meanwhile, I had gained 40 pounds, and in an effort to unite with the Nasty Women movement while showing solidarity with cancer patients, I shaved my head and eyebrows. As a result, Josh started neglecting me more, and my professor for Gender Queer African Drum Studies mistook me for a white male, forcing me to become so offended that I dropped out of college.
During a brief period, I tried foolishly to win back his attention by identifying as a parakeet:
“Chirp chirp! Tweet tweet! Twitter twitter cheep churp!” I would yell as I pecked away at his genitals. All I got was a strange, misogynistic look I had never seen before.
I started to notice things. Like when Josh would offer to pay all of the month’s rent, or when he would talk about his job more than last night’s amazing episode of John Oliver. Then came the final straw when he told me he loved me, and that I would make a great mother. It was clear, Josh had become a full-blown wife-beating nazi. It was time to Drumpf Josh.
After giving myself a black eye and filing a police report with the local authorities, I asked Josh to meet me at public restaurant where everyone could see.
“Babe, I have to tell you something,” I began as I stealthily dialed 911 with the iPhone X he had bought me. “It’s not me, it’s you. We’re done. I’m Drumpfing you.”
I could tell he was confused, but I waited patiently for him to get upset. When the police arrived, I yelled “ME TOO!” as I ran hysterically around the restaurant. The police took Josh away and gave him 629 years in prison for raping me.
It’s hard to believe that I actually used to cherish the times my boyfriend would do things for me, like hold the door open or pay for dinner. It wasn’t until Trump became president that I realized he never did those things out of kindness or love, but hatred and pity.
Don’t fool yourself into believing your significant other isn’t a selfish white nazi. Drumpf him before it’s too late.