Ever since Taylor Swift appeared last September at a Kansas City football stadium, with a Chiefs jacket artfully shrugged off her shoulders, large swaths of the nation (I know, not you) have quietly or loudly lost their minds.
Here was the fulfilling of the prophecy foretold in “You Belong With Me,” in which Swift was, in fact, on the bleachers, and this time the guy finally realized that he did belong with her. Here was the merger of two major fandoms.
Here was Megyn Kelly giving her two cents on the couple, and Donald Trump giving his, and Howard Stern proclaiming that Travis Kelce should marry Swift, and my old friend, a literal ordained priest, texting me to say, “If 20 years of listening to the ups and downs of Taylor Swift’s love life ends with her marrying a football player, I am going to be so p—ed.”
