Pretty bad article, but a couple interesting points that we all probably know already. Since it’s a liberal woman, it’s new to her I guess.

I told him that I was born in Russia and was a writer. He showed me a list he’d written of his favourite desserts in the city. It was a sober hobby he’d started during the pandemic, going to restaurants by himself, sampling sweets. He made a lot of lists, he said, most of them food-related. I asked what other kinds he made.

“Lists of lies liberal white women tell about Donald Trump,” he replied.

Suddenly, his leg was shaking. He grabbed the edges of the table and raised his voice: “White, liberal women are a plague on our society.”

He proceeded to drink 11 iced coffees.
. . .
“They say horrible things about me and make everyone hate me and think I’m a bad person,” he said. He was staring at a point in the distance, speaking like he was in some kind of trance.

“What did they say about you?” I asked.

He snapped out of it. “Oh, not me,” he answered. “I meant Donald Trump.”

Over the course of a few dates, he’d make this mistake often, where he’d talk about Trump in the first person. And I came to realise that while I was trying to separate Jared from who he voted for, he may have been personally struggling to do the exact same thing, just in a very different way. It became clear to me that he truly loved Trump not just because he identified with Trump the politician but because he identified with Trump the person being considered ‘bad’ by progressive standards.
. . .
On a different week, I met up with Jake*, 36. He was on his second mezcal negroni, and I was sipping a seltzer with lime, when I asked him why his last relationship ended. “My previous girlfriend killed our child,” he said. “Like, she’s in jail now for murder?” I asked. “No, but she should be,” he explained, shooting back his drink. “She got an abortion and killed our child without asking me.” I took a deep breath and tried to listen carefully.
. . . At a chic omakase place, Matthew*, 25, from New Jersey was going off about how “we should have never let a woman be head of the Secret Service”. With each course, I fired off questions about his upbringing. He mentioned online groups where there were “others like him”, the kind where people whose radical-to-me beliefs find validation — and even more than validation, identity itself. Matthew later revealed he has a swastika tattoo.
. . .
I didn’t feel that any of the men I dated were that interested in me as a person or where I came from either. I rarely got questions like, Why are you Republican-curious? What drew you to our dating app? What are your family values? What are you looking for in a partner? What are your goals in life?
. . . On our last date, we were walking through a park when I told him we couldn’t keep seeing each other, that I disagreed with most of his beliefs and didn’t align with the future he wanted. Confused, he replied that from his point of view, we actually agreed on most things.

No, I said, we didn’t, which he would know if he’d asked me any questions about myself. He still leaned in and tried to kiss me. We never saw each other again.

https://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/love-sex/relationships/a63915627/political-beliefs-dating-app-experiment/