Trump's love affair with presidency is over

There is only one reasonable explanation for Donald Trump's erratic behavior in recent weeks. His infatuation with the presidency apparently has ended.

Like a schoolboy falling for a girl the very first time, Trump was bewitched by the grandeur of the title "Mr. President." The power and prestige that go along with being the leader of the free world would far exceed the notoriety of the high-rise hotels and steaks that bear his name.

So for months, Trump flirted with the idea of being president. He pursued his new passion with a vengeance, trampling over 16 other suitors who got in his way. He teased potential supporters with merciless vigor, bringing them to the point of complete surrender, convinced America could not survive without him at the helm.

They fell in love with his brash demeanor, his uncensored voice and his irreverent behavior. But for Trump, the feelings never ran as deep. For him, it was merely a crush.

Days after the engagement party in Cleveland, where he secured his party's nomination, the thrill of winning had all but subsided. The pursuit, perhaps, was more exciting than the prize.

Since the Republican National Convention, he has made blunder after blunder. He seems to be doing everything possible to show that he wants out.

Republican Party leaders are getting the message. They're in a panic, we're told, and have begun looking into options for replacing Trump if he were to make the unprecedented decision to drop out.

We've never seen this sort of thing in the history of presidential politics. Then again, we've never seen a candidate quite like Trump. And the GOP has good reason to be wary that their nominee's heart is no longer in the right place.

Let's take, for example, the rally last week in Virginia. Trump committed the cardinal sin of presidential campaigning. Even the most inexperienced politicians know that babies are an essential prop in conveying a candidate's tenderheartedness and humanity. But instead of kissing a baby, Trump told an antsy mother to get her bawling child out of there.

That alone might not have been enough to draw a conclusion, but couple it with his fierce attack on a Gold Star family who lost their son in a heroic act of valor in Iraq. No one who really wants to be commander in chief would disparage the parents of a fallen soldier, no matter how many times they pulled their worn copy of the Constitution from their pocket and challenged you to read it.

And when they accused you of having sacrificed nothing, savvy politicians would have maintained a dignified silence in public while working underhandedly to deflect it onto their opponent. No one would come back at a grieving family with the ridiculous defense that you have sacrificed by employing "thousands and thousands of people."

Clearly, being in a position to hire people is not a sacrifice. If someone is working for you, then you are reaping the benefits. And if you aren't getting anything out of it, you must be a lousy manager.

And what about that Purple Heart? A wounded veteran certainly has the right to give his medal to anyone he chooses, but someone who really wants to be president wouldn't accept it and thank him with an insult. After the decorated veteran expressed his confidence in Trump and handed over his Purple Heart at a rally in Virginia, Trump quipped the unthinkable: "I always wanted to get the Purple Heart. This was much easier."

There aren't many things that would be more disrespectful to our troops who have been wounded or killed while protecting their country.

The political blunders have been constant. He practically committed treason by suggesting that Russia hack former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton's emails and release them publicly. Then he took his time giving GOP House Majority Leader Paul Ryan and Arizona Sen. John McCain lukewarm endorsements in their re-election bids, though they had held their noses and thrown their support behind his nomination for the party's sake.

Trump also suggested that disenfranchised voters such as African-Americans and Hispanics — the primary victims of restrictive voter ID laws — would commit voter fraud without them. "We may have people vote 10 times," Trump told The Washington Post. "If you don't have voter ID, you can just keep voting and voting and voting."

Trump further alienated women by blaming them for sexual harassment in the workplace. In an interview with USA Today, he said if his daughter Ivanka were sexually harassed at work, she should find a new job. "I would like to think she would find another career or find another company if that was the case," Trump said.

He also diminished the work of first responders by criticizing local fire marshals for managing crowds at his rallies. "They don't know what the hell they're doing," he told supporters in Colorado Springs, Colo. "This is why our country doesn't work." Of course, Trump didn't mention that the Colorado Springs Fire Department had just rescued him and his Secret Service detail from a stalled elevator.

Despite the unrequited love, Trump's supporters continue to shower him with $10 and $20 donations — enough to edge closer to Clinton's multimillion-dollar fundraising effort.

And in case he loses the election in November, Trump already has begun to try and ease the heartache his followers will undoubtedly feel.

It won't be their fault, he assured them. And it certainly won't be his. If he doesn't get to be president next year, it will be because America's election system is rigged.