Taylor Swift is in British Vogue this week (looking sultry as ever on the cover, I might add), and had this to say about the possibility of there being a Mr. Taylor Swift some time soon.
“Dating or finding someone is the last thing on my mind, because I can’t picture how it could work with the way my life is.”
But you have a lot of money?
“I don’t know how a guy is supposed to walk next to his girlfriend when there are 20 men with cameras, and he can’t protect his girlfriend because that’s the life she chose…”
Do I need to remind you about the money?
I just don’t see how it could work
Taylor Swift made $40 million last year.
“I don’t think about it, and I kind of run from it when it presents itself ’cause I don’t think any guy really. … They think that they would want to get to know me and maybe date me, but I don’t think they want what comes with it.”
What comes with it is houses in Nashville, Rhode Island, New York, Los Angeles and other cities we probably don’t even know about. I bet Boston and maybe the Seychelles.
Look, Taylor. I know you may think it would be difficult for someone. That you need a man who is both appropriately jealous about the fact you are the masturbatory fodder of men ages 15-45, but is not too jealous that it incessantly bothers him to the point of unfunctionality.
And I know you think no man could deal with his every move constantly scrutinized by an overzealous and unscrupulous press.
No guy, you’re certain, could handle the rumors flying around, hearing that platonic dinners with John Stamos actually involved sex, leading to fear and fights.
But, you gotta look past that. I know a man who would put up with all that. Me. And other non-celebrity dudes. I made one-one thousandth of what you earned last year. Let them photograph me in my splooge-stained sweats walking my dog all they want. Let them speculate about you and Tim Allen.
You offer a man the chance to never fly commercial airlines again, and that is enough to foster a love that will never end.