Rock Bottom with a Side of *Sparkles*: Imagining Taylor Swift on OKCupid

Disclaimer: I love Taylor Swift. I love her in the mornings, I love her in the evenings, even at supper times. (Guess what I’d do if Taylor Swift was on a bagel?)

However, after this most recent break-up with Conor Kennedy, I am starting to fear for her. I mean, I get that she’s a hopeless romantic (or, for womenkind’s sake, let’s say hope-half-empty) and she’s got her heart on her sleeve. It’s impressive to see someone so pretty (really, Tay, so so pretty) fall in love so easily. But, sweetpea, there’s a LINE. And buying a house across from the family of your 18-year-old boyfriend? I’d say we’ve crossed it…We’ve crossed it, driven 3,000 miles past it,  taken a ferry down Clingy Creek to Stalker Stream, and boarded the train out of Psycho Station.

So we find ourselves on the verge of Never Ever Getting Back Together once more and we begin to lose sight of reality. Specifically, that we’re still really super rich, pull off red lipstick like it ain’t nothin but a g thing, and, like, we die knowing we’ve dated a Kennedy. These are the things we are at risk of forgetting. And, alas, we all know what comes after the complete and total breakdown of logic and reason: online dating. So, I’ve gone ahead and created an OkCupid profile for my darling (slightly)craycray TayTay, with the profound hope that she’ll see it, spritz herself with Fiji Rare-Diamond-Fairy’s-Wing-On-A-Spring-Morning blessed water, and get back out there with her head on straight, knowing she will never (ever) have to use it. Read it, love it, break up with it, write a song about it, whatever floats your super-retro-polka-dot-bathing-suit-outfitted boat. Just enjoy.

…And let us pray.

Now, my dear Taylor, consider this a wake-up call in the form of the Ghost of Sad-Sack Future. You can do better than online dating…and schmucks like John Mayer …and man-baby-wolves like Taylor Lautner…and one “n” Conors (seriously, dude, you’re missing one.) Your guitar’s gonna start malfunctioning if you keep crying on it. Heartbreak’s what brings home that cheese anyhow, muffin. So lock it up, Swiftboat. We’re counting on you.

And remember: Friends are better than boyfriends. And best friends are better than other friends. And me > your best friends. So let’s be best friends. Seriously. I have like 12 colors of glitter pens. It’s perfect.




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