In defence of Taylor Swift’s love life
Yes, I am writing a defence for T-swift in response to the social media jabs about her love life. Now I’m not a particularly big fan of her music… except for Blank Space and I Knew You Were Trouble. And I have a soft spot for Love Story. And Style is kinda catchy… but this is all beside the point.
Her latest sojourn in the land of the love has come to an end: Calvin Harris confirmed the split on twitter and she retweeted it. Which is the twitter equivalent of a statutory declaration.
Was it because she wanted to settle down? Or was she working too much? Maybe was he bored? Or just wanted to get his single on? It doesn’t really matter to me. But what I do find interesting is this need to label her a ‘relationship hopper’ or a ‘love addict’ and other such demeaning labels. C’mon! She (shock horror!) likes men and they sometimes like her back and they wish to spend time together. Sometimes it develops into a relationship, sometimes it doesn’t. Have I just described Swift’s love life? Or everyone’s?
It’s the accusatory nature of these labels that really bothers me. “Poor Taylor can’t keep a man!” One weekly magazine spat out. Excuse me while I go vomit into a copy of this magazine and then put it back on the shelf.
Can’t keep a man. Oh Pleeeeeeeease. I hadn’t realised it was a woman’s sole job on this earth to find and keep a man. What if he isn’t good enough to be kept? What if keeping him is bringing her down? Or slowing down progress in her life? And what gets me the most, is that the people writing these articles and headlines are women. Talk about having each other’s back…
Swift is 26-years-old: I would need all my fingers and all my toes to count all the men I dated in my twenties. Yet, no one ever dared tell me I couldn’t keep a man… at least not to my face. I dated the commitment-phobe, the mamma’s boy, the career dude, the world-traveller, the young guy and the silver fox. All of these romances ended (just kidding I’m still dating all of them 😉 ) and, yes, I briefly considered the fact that I was the common denominator. But only briefly.
As you can see from the witty names I’ve given these men they all didn’t work out for a specific reason. As much as I enjoyed their company and they enjoyed mine, there was something in the way. They didn’t want to settle down, they had an inappropriately close relationship with their mother, had no time to see me, was old enough to (almost) be my son and was definitely old enough to be my father.
However, as I have gained experience and maturity, I now know that any of these relationships could have worked out if it felt right. But none of them did. Their excuses and my excuses all pointed toward the fact that the relationship would fizzle, and in some cases, the sooner the better.
As much as I may have been (mildly) heartbroken at the time, I always knew it was for the best. These issues didn’t have to be the death knell for the relationship, but they were. So I whisked them off to the land of the ex and promised never to write.
So does the loss of these guys (and there were a few more) mean that I was a crap girlfriend? That I couldn’t give them what they wanted? That I didn’t know how to make it work? For the love of all that is good and pure, NO!
It meant I wasn’t going to accept less than I deserved. I wasn’t going to settle for something that was only okay. It also meant that I wasn’t what they wanted either. So everybody wins… or loses.
Personally, I’m glad I dated all the wrong men in my 20’s. That meant that when I found something right, it was so achingly clear.
So let’s not point the finger and gossip about who couldn’t keep what relationship going. Let’s encourage each other to figure out what we want and accept nothing less.
Taylor, if you’re reading this, keep on keeping on. I hope you find your Love Story (sorry, I couldn’t resist).
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