As a long-standing Swiftie, I have to admit that the news about Taylor Swift’s split from British actor Joe Alwyn got to me at first. Upon first seeing the tweets circulating that the pair had broken up after six years together, my brain immediately went into denial. I initially read the situation as just melodramatic fans stirring up gossip again, and I simply brushed it off as a rumor. I didn’t feel that the articles that were dropping (seemingly out of nowhere) from People Magazine and Entertainment Tonight had enough concrete evidence, besides Alwyn not attending any of Swift’s Eras Tour shows so far. But as days passed, and more news outlets covered the story, it was time for fans to accept the couple’s fate. There were mixed reactions from the fanbase, with some oddly celebrating the end of the relationship, and a multitude of others grieving – titling themselves children of divorce, claiming they don’t believe in love anymore, and even leaving flowers in memorial outside of her Cornelia Street apartment. Considering how strong their relationship had appeared to the public, I initially had a hard time accepting their breakup, too. How does one write lyrics such as “I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings,” or “Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere,” or “All these people think love’s for show, but I would die for you in secret,” just to break up with them years later? As I reflected more and more on the situation, I had to take a step back and ask myself why it affected me and so many others so deeply.
I’ve been a fan of Swift since the 2010 release of her album, Speak Now, and with all of those years I’ve dedicated to being a fan, it feels like I’ve grown up with her through her musical diary. In the prologue for her 2012 album, Red, Swift wrote, “And there’s something to be proud of about moving on and realizing that real love shines golden like starlight, and doesn’t fade or spontaneously combust. Maybe I’ll write a whole album about that kind of love if I ever find it. But this album is about the other kinds of love that I’ve recently fallen in and out of. Love that was treacherous, sad, beautiful, and tragic.” Watching her grow from a young and wide-eyed teenage girl who dreamed of fairytales and finding her prince charming, into a powerful young woman who seemed to have found her soulmate was a full-circle moment for me as a fan. I was rooting for her these past few years, seeing her write about how she found this sacred love in a dark time of her life but was so scared to lose it, and that time could never mend that kind of pain. Her songs about Alwyn from the last few albums painted a picture of a very idealistic love for me – the kind of love that I hope to have someday. The kind of person who would break their back to make me break a smile, someone rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky, a magnetic force of a man, someone that’s lit from within. Love that isn’t fleeting, mercurial, or contrived, but rather real, authentic love that stands on solid ground. Love that isn’t burning red – love that shines golden, like daylight.
From what it looked like on the outside, Alwyn was a healthy, grounding force for Swift when she needed it the most. The two got together after her infamous 2016 scandal with rapper Kanye West, when an edited phone call between West and Swift led to a global witch hunt that gravely impacted Swift’s reputation, with the general public turning their backs and labeling her a “snake.” That’s when Alwyn came into the picture, building a relationship with her in secrecy as the two hid out from the nasty comments and rumors the world had to offer. The couple thoroughly maintained their privacy over the last six years, with the only insider information fans received being the dreamy and romantic lyrics Swift wrote for Alwyn on her last five albums. Given this narrative of a secure, long-lasting relationship that she portrayed in her songs about him, it’s not surprising that fans were disappointed to hear that it came to an end.
However, Swifties have been digging deeper than ever before, dissecting her lyrics, conspiring and desperately searching for answers in her music, trying to find a reason why it fell apart. But the truth of the matter is – we don’t really know what went on behind closed doors. Sources are pointing to the fact that it was an amicable breakup, and the relationship had simply run its course. It’s very likely that Swift’s priorities have probably changed. It’s not unreasonable for Alwyn to want to prioritize his privacy and stability, and for Swift to shift her focus to maximizing her career. But now that the dust has settled, and Swifties are starting to accept the fact that the couple has split, a lot of the fanbase feels as though the songs she wrote for him are now somehow “tainted” and that they can’t listen to them the same way ever again. It’s strange for me to see people mourning the relationship as if they were the ones who got broken up with when it’s not their relationship and never was. The idea that the life they had together needs to be immediately erased and rendered irrelevant is so absurd and counterproductive. The love they shared was real, even if it was never meant to last forever. Everything that she felt for him – her declarations of love, promises of marriage and children in her lyrics – in those moments, was absolutely real. That was her truth at the time, and her music will forever preserve those truths. It can be hard to believe that long-term relationships such as theirs could someday come to an end, but every moment that they got to share their love for each other made it absolutely worth it. Their breakup doesn’t reduce the value of the love they shared or the countless songs she wrote about him over the last six years. They ultimately made each other better people, and Swift finally got to experience the magical, whimsical, fairytale love she used to write about in her girlhood.
In a weird, parasocial way, Swift and Alwyn’s breakup gives me hope. Swift has proven herself to be resilient throughout her career, both as an artist and as a person. Sure, her fears about her long-term relationship coming to an end (as expressed in songs such as “Cornelia Street”) might have materialized, but not only is she surviving her personal fears, she’s thriving. As of now, she’s on top of the world in every possible way. She’s one of the world’s highest-paid celebrities, breaking records left and right, selling out stadium concerts, reaching numbers she’s never seen before in her career, and yet, she’s experiencing a fresh start in her romantic life at the age of 33. Fans having meltdowns over the status of her romantic relationships and grieving them the way they would over the loss of a loved one feels dismissive of all of the outstanding accomplishments she’s achieved throughout her seventeen-year long career. I find it so reductive to act as if finding “the one” is the most important thing in a woman’s life – especially in Swift’s case, where she’s essentially been running a victory lap around the entire music industry for the last few years and reaching unknown heights with her success. I simply don’t believe that happiness or success in life should ever hinge on having a partner or seeking your ‘happily ever after,’ especially not when you’re Taylor Swift.
Dating, especially in the 21st century, can absolutely feel disheartening at times. And to see the woman who essentially wrote the soundtrack to my series of teenage flings (and, subsequently, my teenage heartbreak) lose the person she once claimed to be the king of her heart certainly doesn’t help. It’s alright for us as fans to feel a sense of empathy or even concern, but we shouldn’t be overanalyzing her every move or swearing off her love songs forever. She’ll be fine. We can look back on those songs she wrote for him as a living record of her resilience. They captured a love that blossomed in the darkest time of her life, and saw her through up until the pinnacle that she’s at now. We can keep listening to songs like “New Year’s Day” or “Paper Rings” and smile in that “Lavender Haze” of love, and it won’t matter who those songs were about or why they were written, or who broke up with who. We aren’t defined by our endings, and the ending of a relationship doesn’t immediately equate to failure. Because for a good life that’s been lived, for a good love that’s been shared, the end is the least interesting part about it.