Folks, there’s something I have to get off my chest. For the past 2 years I have had a deep, dark secret. Guys, I’m Republican. I feel so ashamed. 

I used to hang around my friends. And they would talk about how Republicans are the devil and how they should all be lined up and shot. I may have looked liberal and sounded liberal, but I was a GOP’er the whole time.

It was scary to hear the things they would say about my kind, when they thought no one was around. Even members of my family would talk about how much they hated Republicans.

It’s a hard thing to describe—living a life of secrecy. Then when it’s election time you have to hide the one thing that means more to you than anything in the world.

I hid a “I’m Voting McCain” poster under my bed for the longest time. Then my dad found it, of all people.

I was so embarrassed. He sat me down. And we had a talk. When he said he would rather his son be dead than be a Republican, I knew he meant it.

It wasn’t long after that I moved out. I hit the road determined to make a difference in the world. I stopped at this bar in red tie district. I’d never been around other people like me before. And it was there I first saw Mitt.

My, oh my. He was so wonderful. His hair, his teeth, his skin, his hair, all of it was beautiful. He was perfect!

I knew Mitt and I were destined to be together. I couldn’t imagine voting for another man. I had fallen in love with him at first sight. Then he spoke.

After I came out into the world of the Republican “lifestyle,” I found a long list of suitors for a date on Nov. 6.

This one guy I was talking to turned out to be crazy with a capital “C.” Rick Santorum was just so needy. Jon Huntsman gave him my number. And I swear he called me everyday wanting money or to tell me about his distaste for modern television. Finally, I just had to stop it.

Then I did something to really make dad proud.

Herman Cain and I were a thing for a minute. He knew how to talk to me. He knew exactly what I wanted to hear: completely incoherent babbling with a touch of southern charm.

But I’d heard he’d had an affair before and I wasn’t having any of that. Then Newt came by. It was so cute when I shut him down at his own rally!

It wasn’t long that I started questioning why I’d given up on Mitt so soon. He was a good guy. Stable. Rich. He had all his hair. I decided to go back. If he’d have me back, that is.

Of course he was happy to see me. He told me there was plenty of space for me in a binder somewhere.

Now, we weren’t without our ups and downs. The “Libertarian” Republicans would tell me Mitt was a fake and that I should vote for Ron Paul, who was so not my type.

I told them they just didn’t see what I saw in him. How could they understand? They’re not even real Libertarians. They were nothing like Paul Ryan.

Now here we are, 2 years later. It’s been a long trip. But we made it, despite what all the judgmental, leftwing hate mongers had to say.

I’m Republican. And baby, I was born this way.