It’s 2 o’clock in the morning and my phone starts buzzing. It’s Donald Trump texting me again. “Join me in a private roundtable discussion with undisclosed supporters,” he writes (actually, he begs). “We’ll have a fantastic time and take a photo together.” I silence my phone and roll over. I know I have a problem here; I just don’t want to think about it at 2:00 in the morning. The truth is, Donald Trump is fixated on me. While he pretends to do an about-face (no pun intended) on mask-wearing or sends a vintage “Get Out of Jail Free” Monopoly card to Steve Bannon, he’s…