She may not always like him – but no way is Melania letting go of her big, brash bully
TO BE honest, I’ve always been relieved you can never know what goes on in other people’s marriages. Couples who throw crockery at each other or deliver brutal put-downs at dinner parties can often outlast the most outwardly lovedup unions. Which brings us to the US First Couple, on the red carpet in Israel.
It was at Ben Gurion airport that all we armchair Trumpwatchers goggled at the spectacle of POTUS and FLOTUS leaving the ark of Air Force One two by two. He tries to grab her hand. Melania, in dazzling white suit, swats him off with a killer little ninja flick of the wrist, and we all went: Check. That. Out.
Who needs his Twitter feed when the body language provides such a detailed field guide to the Trumps: not just to the grunting, silver-backing, body-slamming, chest-beating alpha-male stuff he does with other world leaders (of which more in a sec) but the MeTarzan, You-Jane drama of their own relationship.
When I saw the furious flick that went round the world in a flash – a scornful move she repeated in Rome – it told me this: Melania’s not down with pretending her marriage is as perfect as a piece of political performance.
SHE’S not going to be the silent, surrendered Stepford Wife whose sole function is to make her husband look good. In fact – in that second anyway – she probably doesn’t even like him and doesn’t care who knows it. For all the above reasons, she doesn’t wanna hold his hand.
It looked as if The Flick was taking their dysfunction up a notch, even though it’s been obvious since the off that Donald and Melania do not have the easy physical rapport of their predecessors in the White House.
On Inauguration Day, he bounded up the steps to the White House leaving her to straggle with the gift-box from Tiffany – and then he appeared to snap at her after the vows, leading her face to fall and the whole ‘free Melania’ hashtag thing. Whereas the touchyfeely Obamas never needed to court the Kiss Cam. Michelle was always tweaking Barry’s tie, they were smooching at ball games, and gazing into each other’s eyes, as if to say: we both find each other so goddam HOT we can’t keep our hands off each other. In contrast, nobody is tempted to shout ‘get a room’ at the Trumps, not even for a New York minute. They’re more likely to yell ‘Security!’ on current form. Last week, he behaved more like the prize ape than President in his anxiety to be the ranking Jungle VIP. He yanked Macron’s arm during their manshakeoff. He shoved aside the poor PM of Montenegro in his haste to nab pole position in the family photo of Nato leaders.
He bullied the Nato secretary general. He showed more anger about Germany selling Mercs to the Mid-West than he did about Russia invading Ukraine, saying Germany was ‘bad, really bad’ and generally behaved throughout like the brash, ugly, American abroad, and his wife did little to hide her distaste for his knuckledragging ‘king of the swingers’ act either.
AND yet. And yet. The Trumps have been married for 12 years, have been together for 17, and I wouldn’t count them out yet, despite the terrible body language. He’s all about winning. ‘Billions of dollars and millions of jobs’ was his own verdict of his first foreign tour. Women like a winner, and they love a powerful man – and he’s the most powerful in the world.
So what did we see when they finally arrived in Sicily, after Saudi Arabia, Israel, the Vatican and Brussels? Melania descending the plane in high heels and a tight black wiggle dress. Yes she looked sulky and furious, but there was no doubting it. He’d won. She was hand in hand with the President.