A love letter to the real ones
Got to attend the Taylor Swift listening party at the Delray iPic last night.
When I got there, a manager asked if I was the one who was unhappy about the just-ended show. I said no I’m just arriving but tell me more.
The girl who was unhappy was Alex, and we became fast friends.
She attended alone and was so pissed about all the kids who were screaming and being disruptive during her show.
Someone tried to explain that was encouraged. I said no, actually, children totally ruined The Eras Show for me and Mom. It’s one thing to sing and dance. It’s another to act like banshees.
I felt qualified to participate because said children were, in fact, terrorizing the entire lobby with their screaming and shrieking and running around.
Alex ended up with a free ticket to return today.
Too bad she didn’t take the 9 p.m. showing that I was there for. It was mellow as fuck and I LOVED IT.
Alex was funny. Not intentionally or actually. Just … she asked if I believe the whole Taylor-Travis relationship is real, because she doesn’t.
I’d said no, not at first. Taylor is a master marketer. And I remembered him being a dickhead on a dating show.
But now that I’ve sat through an entire song where she’s referring to his manhood as a “redwood tree,” I don’t need any more proof. It’s the real thing.
Well.
I never met one of those Gaylor Swifties live and in person before. But Alex is absolutely one of these wacko Redditors, even though she never copped to it.
She said she’s convinced it’s a lie and that the NFL is sponsoring this relationship. To give them both cover.
I said I would love to get your logic on that.
She said come to the 12:45 showing and we can chat some more.
My morning from hell ended right around 11:30 before my afternoon from hell began around 2.
Somewhere in the middle — the good part of the day — I thought about going back to Delray.
And then I laughed and was thankful that my three New Orleans Swiftie besties are normal human beings.
The NFL is sponsoring this relationship, really.
I’m also staying out of the comment sections in general. The people who hate Miss Swift the most have listened to the album more closely than I have.
And I sat in a theater with the lyrics in 120 point font so we could immerse themselves in them.
If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s more unnecessary people’s unnecessary hot takes on the album I’ve waited two months for.
My review is simple: No skips. Another Max & Shellback masterpiece.
And the listening party was fun. It’s no Eras Tour Movie, and that’s fine. This one was a love letter to the real ones.