I Was Taylor Swift

Taylor Swift makes me want to melt things. In the age of digital music most of the pyromanical fun involved in melting CD's is gone so now I try to nuke her music with my mind. It's not working. If her song comes on as I'm driving I actively take my eyes off the road to stab at any button that makes it stop. This is the danger in allowing just anything to be played on Sirus' The Blend station. It isn't texting while driving. It's far more dangerous. 

I thought it was an innocent dislike of her mediocre musical abilities. She can barely carry a tune live in a rhinestone glitter encrusted bucket but it's passable, not detestable, and vastly better than Britney Spears. Tons of popular musicians suck and they don't make me want to Call the Suicide Hotline, Maybe. I also thought it may involve her pre-teen "DeaR DiaRy I ToTeS woRe pLaiD today! OMG!" writing style. It's no secret that women who insist on talking in letters and sound like a child make me want to slam my forehead into the table. If you have seen one Taylor interview she falls squarely into that category. 

I recently told a friend who loves T.S. I cracked her modus operandi for songwriting:  

1) Get a boyfriend. A totally hot boyfriend. The boyfriend your girlfriends want to get with. You are not actually all that attracted to him and would rather be home nerding out with the shy guy but you will put this out of your mind because there is work to do. 

2) Put on red lip stick, a dress, some Keds to make yourself look like a 15 year old playing dress up, and do up that curly blonde hair. Then walk all around vacation towns holding hands and standing on decks of ships looking like a Ralph Lauren ad together. Be sure to attend fabulous parties and have everyone say how adorable you are as a couple.  

3) Fall in fake love until precisely the time where it is about to round second base, require a commitment, and PANIC. 

4) Do something random, mildly crazy, and unverifiable so you have to break up.

5) Feel relief but recognize the immediate need to dispel all public knowledge that it was totally your fault in the first place. 

6) Commence Operation: "It's Not Me It's Him"

7) Get out the diary and use it to complete Mad Libs in Love while sitting at the piano.

8) Piece together the results of the diary and Mad Libs in Love into song lyrics that dispel all personal blame. Then distribute it in all appropriate media channels.

9) Meet a new guy while sitting around in coffee shops looking super fabulous and mildly damsel in distress-y. 

10) Rinse. Repeat.

Susan's Ex-Husband "Chicago Ken". All 6' Eleventy".
Comes complete with appropriate glassware and suits. 

So here's the thing...that 10 step process of Taylor Swift? It's essentially the 10 step dating process of moi from the ages of 16-25. No wonder I don't like her. I wouldn't have liked me either at that age. 

At Taylor Swift's age I was kind of a jerk to men but you never would have heard me admit it. I think I figured that since I wasn't sleeping with them that I could keep at least a six-pack around waiting in the wings to take me out if my #1 choice was busy. I did have one serious boyfriend in college (He reads this blog. Dear, this doesn't apply to us, but you already know that.)  Other than him I followed the 10 step plan effectively.

What ended my reign of terror? I got married. One man managed to settle me down using a combination of witchcraft and my complete inability to pay attention to anything after my father passed away.  He also walked me around vacation towns holding hands looking like a Ralph Lauren ad. This will happen to Taylor Swift eventually. And when it ends in divorce she will enter a new stage of life; making snarky comments on the Internet.  I have a feeling that portion of Taylor Swift's catalogue may be something I can get behind.