Taylor Swift has definitely been singing the stories of my life lately. Too bad that it isn’t Prince or the Beastie Boys. My life has taken a dark turn, and I have been reduced to Taylor Swift.
I realized on Monday, after a particularly ugly email exchange, I was humming “Bad Blood.” In the car, I started singing, “Now we have problems, and I don’t think we can solve them.” I drove down my neighborhood street and thought “This isn’t right. It’s a nightmare dressed as a daydream.” Last night, I was ugly and murmured to myself, “Look what you made do” as I stomped out of the room. I’ve slid from owning my actions to quoting Taylor Swift. My therapist would be so proud.
I was flicking through my Tinder account this morning and thinking nope, not my wildest dream. He will probably ask for sexts. I saw a married ex pass by on Tinder. “We are Never Ever Getting Back Together” started playing in my mind. There has to be a reason I am channeling Swifty right now. Maybe I should take some Taylor Swift advice, put on some snake rings, my snakeskin shoes, and sing, “The old Hailey can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Because she’s kicking some ass and getting receipts.”