by Dr. Susan Block.

It’s just one of multiple kinds of PTSD suffered by many in the Trumpocalypse. But no, “Post-Trump Sex Disorder” is not (necessarily) Trump Derangement Syndrome. In fact, not feeling it at all (ever!) might be a sign of derangement, denial or a Herculean ability to compartmentalize. And you know what happened to Hercules; the world’s strongest man was so painfully poisoned by his wife’s gift of a robe she thought would be an aphrodisiac, he killed himself to escape the agony.

I first heard the term “Post-Trump Sex Disorder” from journalist Julie Vadnal, who interviewed me on the subject in the venerable pages of Cosmo—still a great sexy mag. Sure, it’s a little “looksist,” but a lot more Leftist than the war-cheering CNN, the Bezos Post or MSDNC.

Though generally not as serious as those other forms of PTSD, Post-Trump Sex Disorder sure can ruin a romantic evening when one of you wants sex or even just a hug, and the other needs to watch the Trumpus belch forth his latest offensive absurdities, or whatever breaking news is erupting from the Trump Crime Family. It’s even a point of contention in some divorces.

How about having your lover, maybe your spouse of several decades, suddenly deported? Aside from all the life trauma that entails, there’s also the loneliness of the half-empty bed.

Add to the list fearing for your life as a sex worker, since Trump, aided and abetted by most of Congress,  signed SESTA/FOSTA into law last year. These two bills erroneously conflate consensual sex work with “human trafficking,” encouraging over-zealous police to raid, harass and arrest consensual sex workers, business owners and their customers, such as Jupiter, Florida’s Orchids of Asia spa where Patriots owner Robert Kraft was famously busted for getting a massage. Even those consensual sex workers who avoid arrest are endangered by SESTA/FOSTA eliminating platforms such as Craigslist for conducting their business in relative safety.

There’s also the transgender Americans’ fears of just being themselves in the Trumpocalypse as their human rights get peeled away. And the list goes on…

Like other forms of PTSD, the sex kind is usually bad, but can be a sign of something good. To paraphrase the late great psychiatrist R.D. Laing, Post-Trump Sex Disorder is, at times, a sexually “sane” response to our sexually sick society.

Other times, it’s as sick as can be, though often not diagnostically “mentally ill.” Like when an “angelic boy” grows up into an ammosexual “introvert” inspired by Trump “as a symbol of renewed white identity and common purpose,” and this “ordinary white man” is driven to massacre 49 fellow human beings in a gruesome orgy of exhibitionistically body-cammed mass-murder.

A Brief Evolution of Sexual Denigration

What’s sex got to do with it? Like air, water, sleep and food, sex is basic to life… though it’s not as essential to individual survival, and comes with an extra helping of interpersonal complications. So, it’s a no-brainer (or no-boner) that our sex lives would be affected, and afflicted, by these Trump-infected times.

Of course, it’s not *just* Trump. The forever bankrupt, attention-hogging, narcissistic malignancy currently occupying the White House and his revolving clown car of plutocratic thieves, chickenhawks and mega-polluters, is but a ghastly symptom of our long-festering monster disease, our whole damn, dog-eat-dog, militaristic, corporate capitalistic, male-chauvinistic, brand-bedazzled, celebrity-worshipping, greed-driven, systematically racist, lethally ecocidal society that devours human livers, hearts, cerebral cortexes and libidos.

Then it spits out the bones and devours some more.

Going back to the oranges (Trump-speak for “origins”) of the problem, you could say it all started with sex… of the baby-making kind. That is, about 15-30,000 years ago, some human beings apparently made the breakthrough discovery of sexual reproduction. Woohoo! And uh oh…

Sex for love, pleasure, prayer, healing, honor, affection, trade, romance, recreation, celebration, communication, social relations and much more was already well-known for many millennia, probably much better-known and cultivated than now. But humanity’s revelation of “sex for procreation”—among humans, other animals, plants and almost everything alive—was a major game-changer, like eating the forbidden fruit of the Biblical Tree of Knowledge.

This seems to have led Adam and Eve and (eventually) almost everybody else out of the “fierce egalitarian,” relatively free and easy, hunter-gatherer lifestyle they had enjoyed for many tens of thousands of years to a brave new Neolithic world of farming, “private property,” militarism (somebody’s got to protect that private property), war and slavery, including the so-called “domestication” of animals, as well as the sexual enslavement of most women.

Apparently, when men discovered fatherhood and all that it “means,” they put those fickle female wombs under lock and key (sometimes literally)… or else how would they know if the brats inheriting their fabulous farms were actually “theirs”?

This “evolved” into more elaborate forms of proprietorship, militancy, masculinism, sexism, racism, killing and conquest in and by many so-called “civilizations” around the world, with the “great” Western empires—the Mesopotamian, Greek, Roman, Spanish, French, German and Anglo-American—leading the charge, at least according to the history books I was raised on. One of America’s most revered Founding Fathers, Thomas Jefferson, author of the Declaration on Independence who wrote so eloquently of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” (said to be a clever twist on John Locke’s original “life, liberty and property”) seems to have had his happiest sex (from his point of view) with Sally Heming, who couldn’t even give consent, being her lover’s slave.

Why Trump?

So, the dirty rotten orange isn’t the only bad apple in the bunch, and he isn’t even the worst of this century… so far. Fellow chickenhawks George Dubya Bush and Halliburton Dick get that booby prize for lying their way into America’s Perma Wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, supported by many Democrats and more Republicans, including a certain FBI chief named Robert Mueller (who also helped cover up 9/11-related FBI and Bush-bungling), despite massive protests around the world. Moreover, Bush-Cheney lies were much slicker than Trump lies and, thus far, more devastating.

However, his Trumpus-ness is leaps and goose-stepping bounds more blatant than the Bushes, Obamas or even the Clintons, in that vulgar, Wrestlemania style his stans—which includes WWE (World Wrestling Entertainment) billionaire mega-donors Linda and Vince McMahon—adore. Not bothering to put “lipstick on the pig” of American plutocracy, Trump’s barefaced, “weaponized insincerity” reveals the monstrous evil perpetrated upon the less-advantaged multitudes by the gluttonous, earth-annihilating American oligarchy of “leaders” and corporate ho’s taking turns at the fully greased wheel of the Trump clown car, especially now that the Gospel according to Mueller hasn’t put the brakes on anything. Wheee….? Please pass the barf bag.

A little makeup can make anyone more sexually appealing, even lipstick on a pig; Miss Piggy is much cuter than your average boar. This is one reason why the blatantly ugly, unvarnished piggishness of Trump, even in the Year of the Pig, is such a huge turn-off for so many.

Besides, “Trump” is a good onomatopoetic grunt for articulating that feeling of such utter revulsion you can barely eat (or you eat too much), drink (or you drink too much) or even breathe (thanks to climate change, respiratory illnesses are way up), let alone have good, mutually satisfying sex.

Antidepressant usage is also on the rise. These drugs may or may not help with Trump-affected depression, but rarely do they help with sex. In fact, Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil and others tend to flatline your feelings and lower your sex drive.

Most people don’t discuss such things publicly due to personal shame, especially in our quick-to-shame culture, the Trumpus himself being the most shameless shame-thrower. Though the mainstream media delights in sex scandals and sex-eeeee celebrities (especially sexy “self-made” billionairesses), they shy away like giggling virgins from covering good consensual sex as the positive force it really is (it’s the Bonobo Way!), let alone seriously addressing how our sex lives (in addition to so much else we need and cherish) are under dire threat from the Threatener-in-Chief. 

Sexual Fears & Fantasies

As a sex therapist who talks to people (who shall, of course, remain unidentifiable) about things they can’t talk about publicly—or even privately with their loved ones, medical doctors or “regular” therapists—I hear a lot about Post-Trump Sex Disorder in various forms. The fear factor is high. Many women say they’re scared to see Trump “get away with” pussy-grabbing, so now they don’t trust men. Many men say they’re scared to be called a pussy-grabber (or a “pussy”), so now they don’t trust women.

A pinch of fear can be an aphrodisiac, like spice in your enchilada. But too much drowns the burrito… or dries up the taco. Sorry about the gender stereotypes mixed with Mexican food analogies, but they apply!

Some escape their fearful sexual reality through fantasizing about celebrities or old crushes on social media. Others (about 75% male) escape through porn, knowing full well that POTUS had sex with porn stars and lied about it (the most popular porn search term for 2018 was “Stormy Daniels”), inciting all kinds of conflicted feelings.

Some watch interracial cuckold porn (one of the most popular non-celebrity genres), pitting their natural sperm-wars fueled arousal against their social shame, knowing “cuck” is one of the lowest Manospheric insults, right down there with “pussy.” A man must “be a man,” not a woman or anyone in-between, according to Jordan Peterson, philosopher for the Trumpocalypse, beloved by frustratos, incels and David Brooks.

But then there they are, these “ordinary white” Trumpsters and Peterson believers, straining their manliness muscles, jacking off to interracial cuckold porn while fantasizing about being spanked by Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez or (if they have a mommy fetish) Nancy Pelosi, wondering if they’re “pussies,” and very often despising themselves just moments after climax. Erotic desire can be such a dirty trickster in the pantheon of human feelings.

Sex Talk with Chauncey Devega

These are a just a few of the Post-Trump Sex Disorder types that I talked about this past fall with Salon Magazine political writer Chauncey Devega. I’ve been a fan of Chauncey’s columns since the electoral dysfunction of 2016, so I was happy to chat with him when he asked, having just read “Cucks, Cuckolding & Campaign Management” where I delve into former Trump campaign manager Paul Manafort as not *just* an international dictator whisperer and ostrich-skinned money launderer, but also an interracial cuckold and alleged hotwife-coercing bully… plus adulterer. Paul was pitching and catching for all the teams, and cheating at all the games.

As I told Chauncey, I see nothing wrong with interracial cuckolding between consenting adults, but unfortunately, the gossip was and still is that Manafort forced his long-suffering spouse Kathleen into playing the “hotwife” in these elaborately orchestrated gangbangs. It should be noted that Kathleen has also “faithfully” suffered through all her cucky hubby’s court appearances, perhaps coerced into that role too. No collusion, but plenty of coercion.

What a turn-off… and a particularly annoying source of Post-Trump Sex Disorder. Caring, consensual hotwives, cuckolds and swingers have to be strong enough to handle their slightly kinky interests in this increasingly Puritanical society without the likes of Manafort and Stone making them seem absolutely odious.

Trump Humps the Flag

Meanwhile, some people are having great sex. Some people always are. The “magical” chemical romance of erotic desire (especially for someone new) can be powerful enough to override everything else—from 24/7 Trump news to common sense—sometimes thriving on danger and even disaster.

Of course, true blue Trumpsters are so starry-eyed for their big bad “Daddy” Trump who gets away with having all that naughty sex they’d like to have, they don’t see the danger or disaster, even as it floods their happy bedrooms with contaminated hogwash.

Good for them if they’re having good consensual sex (though they might want to get to higher ground; that pigshit is poisonous). No matter your politics, good consensual sex is your right. Kind of like health care. Oops, bad analogy for Trumpsters.  

One person’s turn-off is another’s turn-on. “Trump can grab my pussy” is a popular T-shirt worn by flirtatious women at raucous Trump rallies (for those too prim for “pussy,” there’s an arrow-with-cat version), while guys sport “TRUMP: Grab ‘Em by the Pussy” as if cheering ringside for their favorite heel to body-slam their opponent. Uh oh, now I’m wondering if Linda and Vince McMahon wear their T’s to bed. NOT a turn-on (for me, anyway).

After a pumped-up Trump rally spiced with WWE-style fantasy as foreplay, some wrap themselves in the flag and hump for Trump, shouting “MAGA!” “Lock Her Up!” “Jews Shall Not Replace Us!” or “Take Away Their Pulitzer’s [sic]” as they jet their patriotic juice. Those without partners can hump their Trumpy Bears.

Trump himself, in an act of unpresidented exhibitionism, humped, groped, grabbed and passionately embraced a large stiff pole draped with Old Glory before a crowd of ecstatic CPAC voyeurs. It was such a stripper-style spectacle; I thought someone (perhaps Mike Pence) might jump up onstage and stuff his pants with Benjamins. Did Stormy show him that move?

Now there’s nothing wrong with a POTUS who humps a flag pole or any kind of pole in front of an appreciative audience. Better that than grabbing pussies nonconsensually and raping our environment brutally… which, unfortunately, this one also does.

From Salon to Fox to Alexandria Cortez’s Teeth

Back to Chauncey’s interview, which by February 14 seemed far off in the past, but then there it was, smack dab on the busiest day of many a sex therapist’s year. I have mixed feelings about V-Day. I prefer Lupercalia, the original pagan Valentine’s Day, along with World Bonobo Day (Go Bonobos!), and even in the throes of Trumpocalyptic torpor, I just have to spend some sexy time with my Valentine. So, it’s a busy day, and I often forget that much of the media (Counterpunch being a brave exception), even “progressive” media like Salon, almost only post sex-positive stuff on the 14^th of February… as opposed to sex-negative scandals and #MeToo revelations involving at least one celebrity, which they’ll post anytime all year round. Thus, Salon unveiled our interview on 2/14, because hey, who doesn’t want to read about bad sex on Valentine’s Day?

Not me (though I did hit “share”).  After our V-Day AND Lupercalia festivities, I took a closer look and, though it seemed like some salient stuff got cut (doesn’t it seem that way to every interviewee?), Chauncey did a great job interviewing me about Post-Trump Sex Disorder and the various forms it takes, including how some Trumpsters love their “Big Mean Sexy Daddy Trump” so much, they fantasize about, as Chauncey put it, “being inside of him” (take that as you will). We also talked about interracial cuckolding (the good and the Manafort kind), as well as swinging, spanking, BDSM, ammosexuals and other kinks and fetishes that relate to politics which, in a way, they all do.

Then I did what savvy media players say you should never do; I read the comments section. I even put on my thigh-high boots and waded into the trash heap of comments on Twitter and Facebook, and my oh my, how some folks like to spew hate on the High Holiday of Love.

I haven’t gotten so much “hate mail” since 2003 when I called Bush’s invasion “The Rape of Iraq,” and a bunch of neocon sadists and homicidal hotheads didn’t get the metaphor, assuming I was talking about American soldiers raping Iraqi women. Which, in fact, they were. But at the time, I didn’t know it, and I wasn’t writing about that in the article, just about how Bush, Dick and Rummy’s Bukkake Bombing Crusade was LIKE a massive, violent, brutal rape of an entire society, an ancient land some call “the birthplace of civilization.” It’s a long, extremely tragic, sobering story linked to an abysmal episode in U.S. history (too long to get into here, but you can read about it here).

Thank Goddess, this recent mudslide of hate wasn’t directly related to anything so tragic. In fact, on second reading, I realized it was pretty tame, more mocking than threatening. For example, an entity calling themselves “Alexandria Cortez’s Teeth,” depicted as a cartoon of big pearly choppers, tweeted:

I’m sure it has something to do with the man having a vagina and not any Big brass big ones. Just being a liberal will turn your partner off. Call a Republican they will give you what your looking for. #GOTRUMP Making America Great Again

To be honest, I pray that #PostTrumpSexDisorder is real, stopping these snowflakes from procreation is a good thing . #GOTRUMP Making America Great Again

No death threats, just manospheric mockery, prayers and cartoons, like Senator Mike Lee of the great porn-loving state of Utah mocking the Green New Deal by presenting ammosexual Ronald Reagan jauntily riding a velociraptor, then encouraging everyone to have more babies as a solution to climate change. It’s absurdist theater that, funny or not, exults in “alternative facts” like Lee’s Big Bad Daddy, Trump the Sideshow Carnival Barker, grossly mocking the Green New Deal, distracting the people from seeing that under the Big Top, the Great American Kleptocratic Plutocracy is raping our one and only Green Old Earth, as they drain and burn the last fossil fuels, poisoning our air and water…

Which are so important to good sex, not to mention life itself.  

In terms of life, Dorine Zanni tweeted this about Post-Trump Sex Disorder:

My sex life has greatly improved. This PTSD is self-inflicted! Get a life!

I tweeted back to Ms. Zanni, asking her how she felt about the Italian meaning of “Zanni,” a Commedia dell’Arte character, often a trickster servant who is known to be a “dispossessed immigrant worker,” but she didn’t reply.

On Facebook, Mark Scahill had this reaction to sexual PTSD:

You are fucking stupid clueless CUNT!!
MAGA BITCH TRUMP 2020

Cogent analysis worthy of a Trump cabinet member. As it happened, Mr Scahill was not a Salon reader, nor was Ms. Zanni or “Alexandria Cortez’s Teeth” (not even the wisdom teeth). In fact, they had cursed, humped and chomped their way over via Trump News—I mean, Fox News—merrily misquoting bits of the Salon interview, topping it off with a special “V-Day Blame Game” headline “Not feeling the love? Blame Trump, racism and war,” featuring a photo of a smiling woman (must be a Trumpster) and a weeping woman (must be… me?), all to tantalize their audience’s insatiable desire to “own (aka rape) the libs.”

According to Fox’s Lukas Mikelionis—who, in another piece, denigrates AOC’s Green New Deal as a “massive socialist program” (as if that’s a bad thing?)—Post-Trump Sex Disorder is “kooky.” Lukas fails to mention that Fox’s late founder and most popular personalities have had sex disorders of the harassment kind, which they may not call “disorders,” though a $90 million settlement deal is a lot pricier than any sex therapist’s bill (even mine). Sex problems come in many different packages, including that Foxxxy flavor of the season, Tuck the Buck; zero apologies for his 2009 “naughty” stint with Bubba the Love Sponge as a call-in scumbag. Not kooky, and certainly not funny; more like creepy… though that’s Free Speech, and yes, for folks like Lying Crying Brett Kavanaugh and their fellow misogynists, it’s a taboo Trumpish turn-on.

With Tuck the Buck tucking them in, our Fox-News “readers” cuddle their Trumpy Bears and dream of slamming the crying woman’s face into a vat of Miracle Whip on a wrestling mat. In between dreams, they tweeted and Trumpeted their awesome sex lives, straining to mock and “own” anyone not similarly turned on by Bad Daddy Trump. This was no surprise, of course; they fit our Salon interview description of them perfectly.

When The Rush Limbaugh Show decided to take on “Post-Trump Sex Disorder” – and me – I decided to take down Rush…

Hurt People Hurt People

However, I was a bit taken aback (at first) to see a fair amount of resistance from “The Resistance.” Here were lefty/liberal/progressives vehemently insisting their sex lives were awesome too, even though they “hated” Trump. Good for them (I guess), though they displayed a distinct lack of that much-vaunted liberal compassion for those who might be suffering, sexually or even just mentally, insisting, often in capital letters, that if anyone isn’t screwing because Trump is screwing the American people (and not in a good way), they must be deeply unhinged, “dumb as hell” or ready for the DNC glue factory. Take K.J. Rodriguez:

I am disgusted and puzzled that POTUS somehow gets worked into sex talk.
I cringed intensely. I’m not a Trump supporter by any metric and even I think it’s dumb as hell to let him affect your sex life and/or mental health.

Tell that to the woman whose husband was deported, the scared-for-their-lives sex workers, the demoralized trans people, the singles afraid to date, the husbands losing their wives to Trump Fox-News, Trump CNN or Rachel Trump Maddow, while they look at Stormy porn and the kids play video games that teach them the arts of killing. Maybe K.J. is right, and they’re all just “dumb as hell,” especially the ones with PhDs. But their pain is real, and so is K.J.’s, as he explained in response to my reply:

I know of & have been victim to POTUS and his policies, living in P.R where he wiped his ass with our losses.

So K.J.’s no bot or sockpuppet poseur, and sex really does help him cope with how hard life is in Puerto Rico these days, or just gives him the erotic release that all humans need.

K.J. actually helped me find common ground with all of my haters and mockers: First off, none of us are billionaires (the only mocking billionaire is Mr. Insecurity, Trump himself—who’s probably not really a billionaire—the others not mocking but hiding behind their very secure, electrified walls). All of us suffer. The Trumpsters mask the pain with excitement, so tickled are they by our Sideshow Clown Presidunce, the wrestling heel who “owns” the Libs, as the Libs (especially the Neo-Libs) try to “resist” the Trumpish hate, but sometimes wind up seeming as hateful as the Trumpsters. Meanwhile, we’re all being sold down the hogwash river by pollution-belching corporations and those greedy billionaires carrying what Chuck Collins aptly calls Excessive Wealth Disorder, hiding out in the Dark Money-lined Big Top.

But why mock the needy? Are things really that bad? Maybe so.

As Harry Sapien commented on Facebook, “Wow, looks like [you] hit a nerve… Unfortunately, truth has a way of doing that.”

And as the now notorious Jussie Smollett sang, with uncanny prescience:

Hurt People Hurt People

Which is why I believe in the Bonobo Way.

Post-Trump Sex Disorder “Treatment,” Bonobo-Style

As I said in Cosmo, there are a variety of ways to treat this modern malaise, from turning off your devices and tuning into nature (well, what’s left of it) to taking your anger out to the streets (nonviolently, please!). Protest marches, strikes and other community action events aren’t *just* political necessities for the 99%; they can be exhilarating aphrodisiacs—great places to connect with like-minded human beings, some of whom might reignite that erotic spark within you that’s been smothered by 24/7 Trump talk. If you’re lucky enough to already have a lover, take them to a good protest march, and afterwards, you just might find yourselves taking each other to bed.

The most direct way to combat Post-Trump Sex Disorder is to make sex a priority in your busy, Trump-angsty life. It may not sound “romantic” or “spontaneous,” but it (usually) works. Schedule in sex with your lover… or yourself (Merry Masturbation Month!), and don’t miss that appointment! Of course, you shouldn’t do anything you find loathsome, but do try getting started, even if you’re not “in the mood,” and you might just find yourself… in the mood! Honor sex and love as infinitely valuable, sustainable forces for goodness in yourself, your relationship(s) and your community.

After all, if “hurt people hurt people”—and wiser words were never spoken—maybe loved people will… love people?

But how do we learn the love we once knew before we ate the forbidden fruit of the tree of so-called “knowledge” that taught us where babies come from, how to farm, “own,” hurt, enslave, murder, make war and make ourselves miserable?

“You can’t go home again.” More wise words (thanks for that one, Thomas Wolfe). There are no more human hunter-gatherers uninfluenced by civilization and capitalism to show us the way. But there are bonobos, our closest genetic Great Ape cousins, creaturely hunter-gatherers who have not consumed the “forbidden fruit” of knowledge with little wisdom and shame with little joy. Thus, they seem to know a little something we’ve forgotten about sex and the nature of love.

Bonobos show us we don’t have to be “killer apes” with lousy sex lives. Bonobos have great sex (quality and quantity), empower the females, and the males are happy and strong. They’re also the only Great Apes that have never been seen killing each other in the wild or captivity. Through female empowerment, male well-being and a whole lot of varied, consensual and even “kinky” sex, they make “peace through pleasure.” Maybe I’m “kooky,” but I think humans might have made “peace through pleasure” before we discovered the damning secrets of reproduction, leading us inexorably to “owning,” killing, polluting, massive human destruction and yes, Trump and others like him.

If we did it before, maybe we can do it again, or at least integrate enough of “the bonobo way” into our lives—including our sex lives—so they we can empower our females, love our males, make peace through pleasure, and have great sex… no matter who is Presidunce.

#GoBonobos!

POST-TRUMP SEX DISORDER(S) posted on COUNTERPUNCH

© April 25, 2019. Susan Block, Ph.D., a.k.a. “Dr. Suzy,” is a world renowned LA sex therapist, author of The Bonobo Way: The Evolution of Peace through Pleasure and horny housewife, occasionally seen on HBO and other channels. For speaking engagements and inquiries, call 213-291-9497.