Dating in my world isn’t normal. I can’t just grab coffee or walk through Central Park without someone watching. So when I wanted to spend time with someone special, I chose the one place I knew I could control—Trump Tower. I shut down an entire floor. Not for drama, not for ego, but for safety. The Secret Service didn’t blink. They know the drill. My date arrived, wide-eyed but smiling. We had dinner, talked about school, life, and what it’s like to be nineteen under a microscope. For a few hours, it felt normal. And that’s all I wanted—normal.
I’ve lived in Trump Tower most of my life. It’s familiar, but it’s also a fortress. When I moved back briefly for college, it felt like stepping into a memory. But this time, I wasn’t a kid—I was a student, a young adult trying to carve out space for myself.
People think I’m awkward. Maybe I am. I’m tall, quiet, and I don’t chase attention. But I do crave connection. And when I met her—smart, grounded, funny—I knew I wanted to make the moment count. So I did what I had to do.
Security is always part of the equation. I don’t give out my number. I use Xbox chat and Discord to talk to friends. It’s weird, but it works. Privacy isn’t a luxury—it’s survival. And when you’re the son of a president, even a simple date becomes a logistical puzzle.
My dad didn’t know about the date. He probably wouldn’t mind. He says I’m independent, and he’s right. I don’t need approval—I need space. That night gave me that. No cameras. No noise. Just two people talking like the world wasn’t watching.
The building staff was cooperative. Some residents weren’t thrilled, but they understood. It wasn’t about shutting them out—it was about keeping something sacred. I didn’t want headlines. I wanted a memory.
She said it was the most peaceful night she’d had in months. That meant everything. Because in my life, peace is rare. And when you find it, you protect it—even if it means shutting down a floor.
I don’t know where the relationship will go. But I know this: I’ll always fight for moments that matter. Even if the world thinks it’s excessive. Because in my world, privacy isn’t optional—it’s the only way to feel human.
