Dinner and a movie? I’m free after Nov. 2

It’s hard enough finding love in a town where a 15-mile freeway drive is considered a long-distance romance. “The 210?” a rather attractive Westside flower once huffed at me. “Where’s that?” C’mon, honey, get a Thomas Guide. It’s called Pasadena. They have a parade there.

Now comes a wrinkle even bigger than geography: the looming presidential election. I like John, she likes George -- and we’re not talking Beatles. The real question: Can political differences doom a potential relationship between now and Nov. 2? As they say in the hallowed halls of our nation’s Capitol: “Let me get back to you on that.”

Sure, James Carville and Mary Matalin manage to pull it off, but they’re successful, famous and, above all, happily married. What about me? How does an average Democrat like me wine and dine an opinionated GOP gal fretting over “the evils of big government” before the appetizers even arrive?

You should see the e-mails I get. One day, she’s fondly remembering Ronald Reagan; the next, lashing out at Michael Moore. Fumed over his Oscar speech. Hated “Bowling for Columbine.” Refused to see “Fahrenheit 9/11.” Wouldn’t let me see it either. I sat through 20 minutes of “Garfield” before sneaking over. Got into a fairly intense popcorn fight with a 5-year-old that day. Talk about your Young Republicans.

And the new Clinton autobiography didn’t exactly bring us closer together. Needless to say, she’s not a fan. “ ‘My Life’? How ‘bout ‘my headache’?”

Me? I’ve never voted Republican. Even at age 7, I warned my parents about Nixon. Did they listen? No.

Truth be told, I actually voted for Ralph Nader in 2000. When I confessed that little tidbit to her, I’m fairly certain she tried to poison me. But I might be wrong. She may have just overflavored the food that night. Garlic gone wild.

This isn’t a problem if you begin a relationship during odd-numbered years. Then you can politely disagree without doing much damage. Other things tend to overshadow politics in those years. Like me forgetting her birthday. Or picking her up an hour late. Y’know, the normal stuff upon which relationships are built. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for the days when foreplay didn’t include a blistering dissection of the Patriot Act.

But every four years, you have to take sides. It’s the American way. Did the Founding Fathers take this into account? Doubtful.

Notice they weren’t the “Founding Speed Daters.” Yeah, democracy’s nice and all, but what about the toll it takes on love lives?

If only we had a one-party system, I’d have a terrific romance going. She and I wouldn’t have a care in the world. Lots of laughing, singing and pajama parties. No political arguments. We’d just swear our allegiance to the ruling class and be done with it. Sort of like my homeowners association meetings. (Which reminds me, I’m late on my dues.)

How many more months of this? Watching every word so that a romantic dinner out doesn’t disintegrate into a heated episode of “Crossfire.”

“On the left -- Howard.”

“On the right -- a woman who won’t speak to Howard ever again if he doesn’t turn in his John Kerry bumper sticker.”

Which, one day soon, I plan to affix to a new hybrid car. She’s partial to vintage British models. The kind that use lots of gasoline. That’s OK. I’ll give her a battery-powered ride home when that sporty European number pops a gasket.

Lately I try to steer the conversations toward more docile subjects, like baseball games and making out.

I’m encouraging a “yes” vote on both.

Contact Howard Leff at [email protected].