A woman who says she dated Maine Democratic Senate nominee Graham Platner told the New York Post that he cheated on his fiancée with her, and that he privately defended a Totenkopf skull-and-crossbones tattoo as a deliberate reminder that "the United States was the evil, bad guy overseas." The account, reported by Breitbart, lands less than a week after Platner locked up the Democratic nomination to challenge Sen. Susan Collins.

The woman, who asked to remain anonymous, shared screenshots of text messages she sent to her mother and a friend in September of last year discussing Platner's tattoo. She told the Post she recognized the symbol immediately.

"As a person who is a leftist, I immediately looked at him and asked him, 'Is that a Totenkopf?' and he told me a whole, 'he will hold this weight forever' bravado sob story about how it was, but he decided to keep it as a reminder that the United States was the evil, bad guy overseas."

If accurate, the claim contradicts the explanation Platner's campaign has offered for months. His spokesperson told the Post that Platner has "repeatedly said he picked a skull-and-crossbones tattoo off a wall in Croatia to commemorate surviving Ramadi and his friends who were killed there." The spokesperson added that Platner has "since covered up the tattoo, and answered countless questions about it."

Those two stories do not sit easily together. One says a veteran chose a random design from a tattoo parlor wall. The other says that same veteran knew exactly what the Totenkopf was and kept it on purpose, as an anti-American statement about U.S. conduct abroad.

A pattern of troubling accounts from women who dated Platner

The anonymous woman is not the first to raise questions about Platner's personal conduct. The New York Times profiled several women who shared a romantic past with the candidate. At least two other women who dated him described patterns of heavy drinking and womanizing.

Conservative commentator Lyndsey Fifield, who dated Platner between 2013 and 2015, said he would often be rough with her while discussing violence. She clarified that he never physically assaulted her but alleged he once handled an argument by twisting her arm behind her back, shoving her into a bedroom, and holding the door closed from the other side so she could not get out.

Fifield also attributed a disturbing remark to Platner, telling interviewers:

"He said this a lot: If anybody ever broke in here, I would rape them."

Fifield also expressed doubt about Platner's claims of ignorance regarding the tattoo's meaning. Jewish Insider previously reported that a former acquaintance described Platner using the term "my Totenkopf", language that suggests familiarity with the symbol's Nazi-era origins, not a chance encounter with a random skull design in Croatia.

Maine Democrat Jenny Raciot, who was in a relationship with Platner between 2019 and 2021, described his behavior as "reckless" and "unsettling." The accounts from multiple women, spanning nearly a decade, paint a consistent picture of a candidate whose personal conduct has become a growing liability for his party.

The campaign's deflection

Rather than address the anonymous woman's specific claim about the tattoo's meaning, Platner's campaign pivoted to attacking Collins. The spokesperson told the Post:

"Unlike Susan Collins, who refuses to take questions on her disastrous vote to confirm Brett Kavanaugh, gut rural hospitals, and supported every foreign war of the last thirty years."

That response is worth reading twice. A Democratic Senate nominee faces on-the-record allegations from an ex-girlfriend that he knowingly wore a Nazi-linked tattoo and privately called America "the evil, bad guy." His campaign's answer is to change the subject to Brett Kavanaugh and rural hospitals.

The deflection itself tells a story. Platner's team did not deny the woman's account. They did not call it false. They repeated the Croatia tattoo-parlor explanation and then launched a broadside at the incumbent Republican. Voters can draw their own conclusions about what that dodge means.

Cheating allegation adds personal dimension

The anonymous woman also claimed Platner hurt her reputation by cheating on his fiancée with her. She stressed that he never became violent with her, a distinction she apparently felt compelled to make given the other women's accounts. In a text message she shared from September of last year, she warned someone: "Better not take a peek at the Nazi tattoo on his chest."

The cheating allegation may not carry the same political weight as the tattoo question, but it adds to a portrait of a candidate whose romantic entanglements keep generating damaging headlines. Several women, across different years, have now gone public or spoken to reporters about Platner's behavior in relationships. That volume matters.

What Democrats are willing to tolerate

Platner secured his nomination to face Collins less than a week after several women said he engaged in unsettling and controversial behavior while dating. Maine Democrats chose him anyway. No prominent national figure in the party has demanded he withdraw or even publicly pressed him on the accumulating claims.

The tattoo question alone would end most Republican campaigns overnight. A GOP candidate who wore a Totenkopf, a symbol used by the Nazi SS, and then offered shifting explanations about its origin would face wall-to-wall cable coverage, editorial demands for withdrawal, and immediate condemnation from party leadership. Platner gets a spokesperson statement and a pivot to Brett Kavanaugh.

Consider the double standard. When Republican candidates face scrutiny over personal conduct or dating history, the media treats it as disqualifying. When a Democrat carries a Nazi-linked tattoo and an ex-girlfriend says he defended it as an anti-American symbol, the story barely cracks the national conversation.

Two versions of the tattoo story cannot both be true

Platner's campaign says he grabbed a skull-and-crossbones off a wall in Croatia. His anonymous ex-girlfriend says he told her it was a Totenkopf and explained its meaning in detail. Fifield has expressed doubt about his ignorance. A former acquaintance told Jewish Insider he used the term "my Totenkopf."

One explanation portrays a young veteran making an impulsive choice he later regretted. The other portrays a man who knew what the symbol meant, chose to keep it, and framed it as a statement against his own country. The campaign has not reconciled these accounts. It has simply repeated the first version and hoped the second goes away.

The anonymous woman's screenshots, text messages sent to her mother and a friend months before the story became public, suggest she was not fabricating a claim for political purposes. She was warning people she knew.

The road to November

Platner now heads into a general election against Collins carrying baggage that would sink most candidates: multiple women alleging troubling behavior, a Nazi-linked tattoo with at least two contradictory origin stories, and a campaign that responds to hard questions by attacking the opponent.

Maine voters will decide whether any of this matters. But the national Democratic Party's silence is its own kind of answer. When the nominee wears the tattoo, the party looks the other way, and hopes voters do the same.

If the standard for accountability only applies to one side of the aisle, it isn't a standard at all.