Which candidate would you most like to have a beer with?

Every four years, when America chooses a new president, that question gets asked. We would like to update that tradition and posit what it would be like to go on a first date with each of the 2016 candidates.

We’ve gotten to see quite a bit of these candidates – on the debate stage, on the trail and in media interviews. But how might they act when it’s a quiet night, just the two of you?

A first date is the ultimate litmus test; it’s where you find out how a potential partner treats a server at a restaurant, whether they can carry on a stimulating conversation and what their expectations are as the night winds down.

Here are some ideas.

Bernie Sanders

In your correspondence planning this date, Sanders declined many of your restaurant ideas, claiming the fancy sushi place downtown doesn’t treat its workers fairly and buys tainted product. “Have you read about the shrimp coming from Thailand?” he mutters before raising his voice. “It’s torture, wage-THEFT. It’s UNCONSCIONABLE!” The two of you end up at the farmers market, where you stroll side by side as Sanders inspects the apples, pears and zucchini. “All these ingredients,” he says, spitting a little as he talks, “remind me of my myriad campaign donors. They’re humble, young and fresh.” You stop to examine a bottle of raw, organic goat’s milk, but he keeps walking and talking, disappearing into the horizon.

Hillary Clinton

She never responds to emails. Instead, she says, text her. She peppers her texts with emoji: happy yellow faces with dollar signs for eyes to represent her love of that French restaurant uptown; a coy face blowing a kiss when you say your favorite wine is a dry chianti (hers, too!); the poop emoji when you tell her you’re almost ready to meet, but first you have to walk your dog. When you sit down to dinner, you ask whether she saw “The Revenant.” “Oh, I just adored it,” she says, “Leonardo DiCaprio was stunning. And like someone else at this table, I think he has a good chance of winning it all!” You nod and smile, and when she asks whether you liked the film, you say you thought it was a little heavy-handed. “Well me, too!” she says, laughing nervously, her eyes wide, unblinking. “I’m actually glad you said so.” You try to flag down the waiter, hoping to get the check ASAP.

Donald Trump

When you arrive at his penthouse, 15 butlers rush out to meet you, each of them holding a book he has written and a piece of fruit, including oranges, mangos and bananas, all within a shade or two of his own skin color. Once you’re inside, Trump stands at the top of a winding staircase, wearing a goofy grin and a red hat that reads, “Make America Date Again!” “This date is gonna be YUUUUUGE,” he says. At dinner, he talks about every other person he’s been with and how they were each losers for leaving him. “I’m going to build a wall around my house,” he says. “When I’m president, they’ll all want to be back with me – including that Megyn Kelly. She WANTS me!” Later, Trump asks to see your birth certificate. You tell him it’s in the car and when you get outside, you peel off.

Ted Cruz

Cruz pushes the glass door of the coffee shop several times before realizing he has to pull to open it. He orders a “decaf macchiato latte” from his seat, and the barista shakes her head. She looks at you – and you look back to her – as if to say: “He has no idea what those words mean; just bring him anything, he won’t notice.” When his coffee comes, he drinks it and leaves, muttering something about seeing the face of God in the latte foam.

Marco Rubio

He wants to take you to the zoo, which seems like an interesting choice. You meet by the monkey cages, and Rubio, looking off in the distance, says: “I just love the monkeys. Their majesty inspires me.” The two of you stroll past the snake house, then to the dolphins. “I just love the dolphins,” Rubio says. “Their majesty inspires me.” When you pass a shaved ice cart, he offers to buy you one. “I just love shaved ice,” he says. “Its majesty inspires me.” He reaches out to hold your hand, but you realize his fingers are mechanical.

John Kasich

You’re walking down an Ohio city street and, out of nowhere, Kasich approaches with a box of rum-filled chocolates. In his best Forrest Gump accent, he says, “This 2016 election is like a box of chocolates – lots of choices but only one sweet enough for you.” He goes in for a big hug, and while it feels OK (not too strong, not too long) it also doesn’t feel exciting. You speed up your walk, but he follows you for a few more blocks, before you duck safely into a friend’s building. You see him from the third-story window walking up to everyone with the chocolates, like a lost child looking for his parents.

Ben Carson and Jeb Bush

When your friend said she was going to set you up on a blind date, you had no idea it would be with two people! Of course, you knew she’d dated Billy Bush for a few months when she lived in Los Angeles and, oddly enough, her aunt had dated George Sr. in Texas before the oil business declined in the 1980s, and he left her for a young Barbara. Both are standing in your driveway, holding a dozen roses and a bottle of red wine, sleepy-faced grins on their faces, as if to say, “I know this is weird, but can we please just go with it?” “Darn,” Jeb says, sounding more boring than Al Gore, “I don’t have my wallet. Can we do this again some other time?” He shuffles off never to be seen again. (You hear later that he retired and moved in with his mother.) Now it’s just you and Carson, who pulls out a stethoscope, motions it toward you, then puts it on his heart and winks. You turn around and shut the front door, shouting, “I have to wash my grandmother’s dog’s hair tonight! Sorry!!!!”