Blinded by love

Ihave a relative, a person I love with all of my heart and always have, who had terrible taste in men when she was young. She dated a rogues’ gallery of thieves, druggies, drunks, liars, bums, womanizers and domestic abusers. Some were a wretched combination of most or all of the aforementioned.

One of these punks was named Pepsi. I never knew if that was his real name, a childhood nickname, or a moniker he picked up because he routinely shoplifted Pepsi and other items from the local minimart.

Sadly, my relative even was married for a short time to one of the worst of these losers. The only good thing that came out of that was a wonderful child I also love with all of my heart.

Once, when I went to deal with one of my relative’s disgusting paramours after he beat her, the little weasel fired a shotgun blast at me. But he was such a mess he missed me, which is pretty hard to do when you consider that a shotgun round sprays when it’s fired. A few years later, though, he didn’t miss when he shot at another guy he felt had crossed him.

When I would ask my relative why she dated such idiots, liars and thugs, she would acknowledge they were absolute disasters and were bad for her, but she would say, about each and every one, “But I love him.” When I would ask why, she would shrug and say, “I don’t know. I just do.”

I think we are in a similar situation nationally. Many of his supporters know Donald Trump is a liar, a con man and someone who is constitutionally ill- equipped to be president of the United States. They know he is bad for the body, brain and soul of America. Yet for a reason they often can’t explain, millions and millions love him deeply and truly.

I think for my relative, and for many others, there’s an attraction to the swaggering, trash- talking wannabe bad boy. And I am not just talking about just women being attracted to that type. I believe many men are attracted to that persona, too. They want to be the guy who routinely insults and threatens others, who can fire anyone who crosses him, who struts around like he owns every room, who has the private jet with his name on the side, who has the good- looking women and the gold-plated digs.

I have a few male friends I communicate with on social media who absolutely adore Trump. They acknowledge he lies and cheats like a madman, and they worship him despite it all. When I refer to Trump as their “Orange Man Crush,” they don’t object, because they know in their heart it’s a true representation of their feelings.

Even though those who love him know he lies routinely and without any qualms, they, like my relative with her lineup of jackasses, want to believe him and will make every effort to justify his litany of lies and other blatant misbehavior. Their love makes them blind to it all.

My relative eventually tired of all the false bravado, all of the lying, all of the tumult in her life.

She started dating better guys. She eventually settled down and married a good fellow who is one of my favorite people. He’s not perfect, but he tries to be a good person, just like most of us.

So there is hope for at least some of those blinded by love of rogues, or one rogue in particular. Like my relative, they just might need time and space to see the light.