My Date With Taylor Swift

Travis Kelce is an old football buddy of mine. Before her engagement to him, I was listening to a news report about Taylor Swift's boyfriend du jour, Mr. Insert Name Here. In it, the reporter mentioned some of her former boyfriends. John Mayer. Harry Styles. Osama bin Laden. That last relationship, however, was tragically cut short by SEAL Team Six. 

Why Taylor Swift's love life qualifies as news is beyond me, but I did smile in recognition when they mentioned she once dated Conor, the oldest of Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and Mary Kennedy's four children. You see, in prep school I was his tutor. Sadly, I was never able to teach him how to properly spell the name "Connor."

They were seen everywhere kissing, cuddling, and kissing some more. She was so in love with him that she spent $4.9 million to buy the 1928 beachfront mansion in front of the Kennedy compound in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts just so she could be closer to her heart's one true love and the rest of the Kennedy Crime Family.

I'm sorry, but that doesn't sound like love to me.

That sounds like stalking.

It reminds me of the 9 1/2 hours I spent dating her. Well, "dating" is too strong a word.

I was standing in line at a Walmart in Nashville and accidentally stepped back, bumping into her.

"Excuse me, miss," I apologized.

"That's okay," she said, her voice light and playful. Her eyes sparkled, like a child getting exactly what she wanted for Christmas. "I'm Taylor Swift."

"That's nice," I said, and looked forward again. I had no idea who she was, but I could see that she was a very pretty girl. She was wearing a red and white striped dress, red earrings, and red lipstick. By the time I got to the cashier, she had written a song for me.

"Do you want to hear it?" she asked, like an excited puppy eager to perform a new trick.

"I really don't think..."

"Great!

Oh, I met him at a Walmart

And my heart stood still

I told him that I loved him

And then I paid his bill

Yippie hi yi diddy, dilly-oh, dilly-oh

Yippie hi yi diddy, dilly-oh"

"That'll be $173.73," the cashier told me. She wasn't impressed, either.

Taylor threw a thousand dollar bill on the conveyor belt.

"We're together," she told the cashier. Her demeanor then changed. Her eyes hardened, and her voice was no longer bubbly. "And you'd better stay away from my man, if you know what's good for you."

I got my cart and quickly high-tailed it toward the front of the store. The petite singer chased after me, babbling some nonsense. "...they're all pretty much about the kind of tumultuous, crazy, insane, intense, semi-toxic relationships that I've experienced in the last two years..." I could hear her coming up fast behind me.

When we got to the front of the store the elderly greeter pretended he didn't see us and acted like he was busy wiping away an imaginary spot on the wall with the palm of his right hand.

"Don't mind him," she told me. "That's my old boyfriend. I don't love him any more. I even wrote a song about it. It's really touching and sensitive. A really romantic song to my lovely ex-boyfriend." There was an edge to her voice. I guess she meant it sarcastically. "I wrote it while sitting on a trampoline. Do you want to hear it?"

"Not really..."

"Great! 

Oh, I hate your heart!

I hate your head!

First chance I get!

I'll kill you dead!

Yippie hi yi diddy, dilly-oh, dilly-oh

Yippie hi yi diddy, dilly-oh!" 

I walked to my car as fast as I could without actually running. She never stopped talking. "...all those emotions spanning from intense love, intense frustration, jealousy, confusion, all of that, in my mind all those emotions are red. There's nothing in between. There's nothing beige about any of those feelings..." What the heck she was saying?

I got in my car as quick as I could. I didn't even take the time to load my bags, I left them behind. Backing up fast, I peeled out. Tires squealing. She slapped the trunk of my car with the palm of her hand as I tore out of there.

"You forgot your groceries!" she yelled, waving her arms around like a crazy muppet. "Call me!"

I could see her in my rear-view mirror. She was jumping up and down, trying to get my attention. I turned a corner, and then another corner. And then another corner. When I felt safe, I breathed out a sigh of relief, as the saying goes. And then I looked in my rear-view mirror. My eyes must have bugged out like Roger Rabbit's.

She was driving right behind me, her eyes sparkling with a bright intensity. I could see her knuckles. They were white from tightly gripping the steering wheel of her yellow slug bug. She kept looking at an electronic device mounted on her dash. I think it was... It must have been...

I looked at the trunk of my car. There was a little black bottlecap-looking device with a tiny antenna sticking out of it. She must have attached a tracer to the back of my car when she slapped her hand against the trunk. So that's how she found me.

I looked again. She was no longer behind me. She had vanished as quickly as she had appeared. But I still didn't feel safe, so I kept driving around. I didn't want to go back home to my apartment. She really shook me up. So I drove around, constantly checking behind me. And then I drove around some more.

Hours later, I had no choice but to go home, but first I had to stop at a station for gas. That's how long I had been driving. The gasoline seemed to take forever to fill my tank. I kept looking around nervously. Every shadow seemed ready to sing me a song.

I walked to the back of my car. I pulled off the tracer and looked at it. So much trouble in such a little package. Just like Taylor.

I walked over to a car with California license plates and attached the tracer to their trunk. Let them worry about it. Californians are used to that kind of stuff. I'm not.

Back on the road, I began to feel sheepish, silly. Maybe it was all a joke, or some kind of a mistake or misunderstanding. It had to be. My internal logic was trying to solve a puzzle with pieces that didn't fit, because that's what your internal logic does.

I pulled into my apartment complex, drove a cautious circle around it. Carefully checking out all the parking spaces. Looking for a yellow slug bug that wasn't there. Hopefully, it was on its way to California.

I parked in my usual spot. Got out of my car, carefully locked it, and walked over to my apartment. Unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

"You're late," a voice said before I had a chance to turn on the light.

It was Taylor Swift. How had she found out where I lived? How had she gotten into my apartment? I thought maybe I should leave the door open. So I did.

"Nice apartment complex," she told me effervescently. She twirled the landlord's master key in the pointer finger of her tiny right hand. Somehow she knew what I was thinking. "I just bought them."

"You BOUGHT my apartment complex? How did you even know where I lived?" It was a reasonable question for an unreasonable situation.

"I have an old boyfriend," she said, mischievously. "Let's just say he owed me a favor and leave it at that."

"That's against the law," I told her. She ignored me.

"Oh, we're going to have so much fun," she said. "Unless we don't, and you wouldn't like it if we don't."

I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. She looked at her watch. It was a Hello Kitty.

"Look at the time," she said. "You've made me late, you bad boy. But, don't worry, I'll be back." Her eyes sparkled insanely. "You want to hear a song I just wrote?"

"Not especially..."

"Great!

Oh, I broke up with my boyfriend

On the night I met his mother

My dogs will sure eat well tonight

All because I met another

Yippie hi yi diddy, dilly-oh, dilly-oh

Yippie hi yi diddy, dilly-oh!" 

I stood there in shock. I couldn't move. All I could do was watch her disappear into the darkness, playfully waving goodbye over her shoulder as she walked away.

There was only one thing I could do.

I took out my phone and dialed.

"Hello, Travis?" I said when he answered. "Have I got a girl for you!"