Until the returns from last Tuesday’s primary started to pour in, Jessica Woodbury had been following a hard and fast rule: No political conversations with anyone whose views she didn’t already know.

Woodbury, a writer who works in marketing and describes herself as pretty liberal, was living in fear — afraid, she said, that someone she otherwise liked might be supporting Donald Trump.

“You just don’t ask. You don’t want to know,’’ said Woodbury, 36. “The possibility that they are a Trump supporter is such a horrible thing.’’

Politics and religion have long been taboo when it comes to socializing. But in and around historically liberal-leaning Boston, Trump’s polarizing candidacy has threatened to make even typical small talk feel fraught.

For some, dissecting and debating the catechism with the folks in line at Stop & Shop suddenly sounds like a pretty good alternative.

“I’ve lost friends on Facebook, I’ve lost friends on Twitter,’’ said Anthony Perrone, a 43-year-old from Wakefield. “I have stopped talking to, or am talking a lot less to, friends in real life.’’

And the culprit, said Perrone, a Bernie Sanders supporter, is Trump. One woman who he often played video games with online and considered a friend recently told him she was supporting Trump. Perrone makes no secret of his Sanders support, and let her know how he felt about her decision. Within 10 minutes he’d been blocked.

“She wouldn’t even hear what I had to say. She blocked me on Twitter, she blocked me on the game, she blocked me on Facebook,’’ Perrone said.

“My neighborhood friend told me the other day that he’s voting for Trump because he’s just an average guy,’’ Perrone said. He wanted to get into yet another argument, but his wife was waiting for him.

Even some Trump supporters aren’t too keen on announcing their affiliation.

When Janet Dillon, 59, of Newbury, asked her daughter to put up Trump yard signs out front, she demurred. Even though her daughter is planning to vote for Trump, Dillon said, “she’s worried about what people will think.’’

Dillon’s husband — who she said will also be voting for Trump should he be on the ballot in November — was also not too happy to find the family truck festooned with Trump bumper stickers.

But Dillon said that like many Trump supporters she doesn’t care what anybody thinks about her choice. She said she supports his policy ideas — if not his personal style — and expects more people to get on board “as he’s becoming more professional.’’

That hasn’t kept her from announcing her support to anyone who will listen — even if some of her relatives wish she’d dial it back a bit.

“It’s kind of a big joke, because I go overboard sometimes,’’ she said.

Political conversations have always been risky, said Dr. Susan Heitler, a clinical psychologist. When a friend from childhood learned Heitler was voting for Mitt Romney in 2012, she said, she was promptly excommunicated.

“They would rather close you off from their lives than open up their minds to new information,’’ Heitler said.

But Heitler, author of “The Power of Two’’ and a forthcoming book that focuses on how to handle difficult conversations without anger, said the tenor of this year’s elections and the weapons-grade rhetoric coming from the candidates — headlined, of course, by Trump — has made such discussions more perilous than ever.

Nervousness about finding out your friends are on Team Trump even appears to cross party lines.

Amanda Caton, a Ben Carson supporter, said she’s so far “been fortunate’’ that no close friends have announced their support for Trump.

On Twitter, Caton said she’s reluctant to identify herself to people as an Evangelical Christian for fear she that she might be mistaken for a Trump supporter.

In an e-mail, Caton, 32, of Watertown, said she’s been tempted to ask acquaintances online who they’re supporting. But if it’s Trump, “even though I don’t want to think differently of them for doing so, it’s very hard not to.’’

Donna McMahon said she speed-scrolls through Facebook so she can catch pictures of friends and family without alighting on anything that reveals their politics.

“I don’t want to see some of the stuff that I see,’’ said McMahon, a 58-year-old Clinton supporter from Saugus. “They feel free to be just very bigoted.’’

She said she’s excommunicated friends for posts in support of Trump that she said expressed bigotry.

“It seemed like before you could discuss issues, but all of a sudden it started getting into bigotry and ideology,’’ McMahon said. “Everything became a heated fight.’’

So now she just keeps scrolling past the potentially troubling parts in the interest of staying friends.

For Woodbury, last Tuesday was a turning point. Trump’s runaway win in the Massachusetts Republican primary convinced her that she should start asking people who they’re planning to support, and if it’s Trump, trying to understand why.

A liberal from a conservative Mormon family, Woodbury has been pretty good at not rocking the political boat. Trump’s rise, she said, has changed her thinking.

“I think we have an obligation to talk to people,’’ Woodbury said.

She tries to be respectful, she said, but this year that can be tough.

“I usually start the primary season with a public statement on Facebook,’’ she said, like ‘Hey, let’s all be civil.’’’

This year, she didn’t bother.

Nestor Ramos can be reached at nestor.ramos@globe.com. Follow him on Twitter @NestorARamos.