Here are some things Donald Trump did during last night's second presidential debate:
• Did not immediately deny that he'd bragged about sexually assaulting women, despite Anderson Cooper's valiant efforts to get him to talk.
• Called himself "a gentleman" after repeatedly interrupting Hillary Clinton and threatening her with jail.
• Interrupted both Hillary Clinton and delightful moderators Cooper and Martha Raddatz SO MANY TIMES Raddatz had to admonish him for it, and for giving meandering, nonsensical responses to basic questions.
• Loomed behind Hillary Clinton whenever she spoke, like a dude at the concert who's about to "accidentally" feel you up as he moves past you.
• The sniffing. Can we talk about the sniffing? Is it a nerves thing? Sinus infection? Was Howard Dean onto something? Here's one possible theory:
Maybe Trump sniffs every time he lies?
— Joan Walsh (@joanwalsh) October 10, 2016
If you watched last night's debate, I hope you had easy access to liquor, because it was a Yeatsian hellscape of Donald Trump's hate- and fear-mongering, with Hillary Clinton continuing to smile that smile that any woman who's been mansplained to at a party will recognize.
Hillary Clinton's put up with garbage men yelling at her for 30 years. I never worried that she'd crack, although if a blathering misogynist stood behind me like that, I probably would've thrown an elbow inside of two minutes, because c'mon, that's a self-preservation instinct. HAVE SOME BOUNDARIES, SIR!
I admire Clinton's fortitude, but as I watched her discuss policy goals while Trump hurled verbal abuse her way, I couldn't help but feel like I was looking into the gaping maw of our political double standard. It seemed so unfair that an accomplished public servant, however imperfect, should have to actually emulate discourse with a man with zero political experience and an increasingly apparent disregard for women's humanity.
Last time around, it was fun to watch Clinton get Trump's hackles up. But it's not fun anymore. There were times, watching last night's debate, that I actually worried for Clinton's personal safety. Seeing her consistently denigrated by a frothing dickbag who so obviously hates women set off my fight-or-flight response BY PROXY. As Lindy West so astutely put it at the New York Times, we all know men like this. We know what they look like. We know what they sound like. It's nothing but horrifying to me that one of those men is currently in a position where he could be president.
Watching the debate was bad for all of us, but it was especially bad for women. The specter of an alleged rapist throwing a tantrum of entitlement while a more accomplished woman struggles to get a word in edgewise is so full of scarily recognizable misogyny I almost don't want to discuss it.
What I can say is that there's a statistical likelihood that it was especially hard on at least one in six women you know.
What I can say is that I've been yelled at like that, because every woman who writes for the internet has been yelled at like that. Donald Trump sounds like every trolling comment left on an article with a legibly female byline, every unsolicited jump into your mentions, every sweaty misogynist complaining about the tyranny of identity politics. Donald Trump's creepy little voice sounds like unbridled hatred towards women personified. It belongs nowhere near the White House, and nowhere near Hillary Clinton.