For a greenie feminist socialist type, I have picked up some really reactionary partners over the years. They must hide their right-wing leanings initially. Or maybe I have been drunk too often during the courtship stage.
My first lover inherited, I can only assume, the worse traits from a British mother (think the Raj, colonialism, and a most unEdward Said like view of the empire) and an apartheit-raised South African father. The man with whom I spent the first half of my twenties can now be found on facebook blasting Islam in populist bad spelling, and shocked me yesterday by commenting on my asylum seeker welcoming status with a badly-thought out rationale that intimated that all men from developing nations are rapists and wife-beaters. I suddenly realised why his mother, my main regretful loss at the end of the relationship, might have unfriended him.
There was the partner of Indian extraction who had strong views on Fijians, and the farm-worker who thought that the ALP consists largely of communists. The Canadian seemed ok until we nearly came to blows about whether or not our (imaginary) gay son would be allowed to bring home his partner. When I calmed down, I remembered that he had submitted to The Operation, and that I had never intended to have children, let alone a gay son.
The Owl, a Melbourne man of a certain age and socio-economic background, harbours a wistful longing for the days when the unions actually meant something, but he is also aware of the strong possibility that if he votes Labor this time, he will probably lose custody of the menagerie, so he sensibly holds his peace.