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Trump Accidentally Admits That He and Melania ‘Barely Speak Anymore’ After Guilty Verdicts

Like we didn't already know.

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From looking completely disinterested at his events to literally slapping away his hand, Melania’s been making it clear that she has no interest in the former president.

We don’t know if that’s from before or after he lost to Joe Biden, and thus she no longer had her platinum status. But it sure could have been all the way back at his inauguration, with her in that baby blue outfit, snatching her gaze away as soon as he turned his head.

It could have been the myriad of times we saw her snap her hand out of his grip as he tried to hold hers in public.

Now, Trump has accidentally given away the game entirely. It could be Dr. Phil McGraw’s ineffable charm or disarming style, but when he asked the former president about his relationship with his wife, Trump’s reply was at first noncommittal:

“I think it’s … Ok … good,” saying, “But I don’t think it’s an easy thing for her, and I think if it wasn’t good, she wouldn’t want to tell me about it, to be honest.” Is that because of the traditional deference of a wife to their spouse, or has he inculcated in her a spirit of fear?

And after all, it seems like they WOULD have a hard time talking, what with him just having been convicted on all counts in a felony case where the crime wasn’t the sexual affairs he had while she was pregnant with their son, but the fact that he tried to cover it up.

Sure, we know it was 11 years later and he was doing it so the press wouldn’t catch wind of it.

But what if Melania thinks it was because of her? What if she thinks that’s the amount worth lying to her over an affair? Worse yet, what if she knew all along, and is this mad because he wouldn’t just own his mistakes?

Bill Clinton had an affair, and he retired from the presidency with over 60 percent approval.

“Because, you know, she sees that I’m fighting like hell, I’m trying to become president and make America great again.” That’s what Trump had to say about her silence. As if he knows the pain of a woman’s heart.

Andrew Simpson
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Andrew is a dark blue speck in deep red Central Washington, writing with the conviction of 18 years at the keyboard and too much politics to even stand. When not furiously stabbing the keys on breaking news stories, he writes poetry, prose, essays, haiku, lectures, stories for grief therapy, wedding ceremonies, detailed instructions on making doughnuts from canned biscuit dough (more sugar than cinnamon — duh), and equations to determine the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow. A girlfriend, a dog, two cats, and two birds round out the equation, and in his spare time, Drewbear likes to imagine what it must be like to have spare time.

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