So, it's official. Taylor and Travis are engaged.
Well, he popped the question two weeks ago, but the timing didn't tie in with Tay Tay dropping the fifteenth variant of her new album, so we're just hearing about it now. Who said romance is dead?
Besides, those two weeks gave their lackeys time to fashion a floral arbor worthy of a 'Bachelor' finale for the happy couple to publicly 'recreate' their private moment and churn out the perfect promposal for the fans.
From the ring Travis 'designed' (yeah, right, as if she didn't send him to a hand-picked jeweler with 3D renderings), to the canopy of flowers that brought to mind a feminine hygiene commercial (apparently a nod to her 'Lover' album photos) Caveman Kelce was not the architect of all this.
No, this was pure Showgirl Swift – micromanaged down to the cross grain of Travis's Ralph Lauren-wrapped neck hairs.
The caption on the gooey Instagram post read: 'Your English teacher and your gym teacher are getting married.'
Pass the sick bag, this music and sports fan is feeling queasy.
Can you guys just get pregnant so we can skip a few of these nauseating steps?
Look, I'm happy for Traylor and wish them a lifetime of (private) happiness, but we know all too well how this whole thing is going to play out.
We will see Taylor in the stands at every friggin' NFL game admiring her fiancé's tight end. He will wear dumb, ill-fitting clothes and she'll flash her vintage rock rumored to be worth $1 million – which is slightly less than Taylor made in royalties in the time it's taken you to read this.
We will be treated to an endless Easter egg hunt of wedding details, whose reveal will also coincide with release dates. There will be a mini-tour schedule and an adorable (barf-worthy) couples' shower where Travis's brother Jason will show his hairy nipples and crash through a burning table, while we all pretend it's charming.
Besides, has anyone paused to think how many precious feelings are about to get hurt? I'm not talking about the guys in Taylor's dumpster full of exes. I'm talking about the sad and salty b*tches who won't be invited to the bachelorette?
Let's see: Blake Lively? Not invited. Taylor might throw a bash in Blake's neighborhood just to rub a little lemon juice into that festering wound.
Katy Perry? Swish Swish, that's the sound of her bachelorette invite being flushed down the toilet. Give those two an olive branch and they'll use it to bash each other round the noggin.
Karlie Kloss? More like Karlie Loss. Once she started palling around with Kim K she signed her girl squad death warrant.
Not that girl code means much to Lil Miss Swift, who has well and truly stolen her pseudo bestie Selena Gomez's wedding thunder.
Selena and her furball fiancé, Benny Blanco, are tying the knot later this year but they can kiss goodbye to the headlines. Nobody cares now that her billion-dollar ride or die is getting hitched.
Brittany Mahomes will probably get an invite to the launch, I mean bachelorette, party – unless another child falls out of her on the party bus.
But Billie Eilish and Chappell Roan certainly aren't going. Billie dissed three-hour performances – the exact length of a show of the Eras Tour – and Taylor reportedly snubbed Chappell at the 2025 Grammys when the younger starlet approached her, so even the bride-to-be can be a little jellybean!
And don't expect a surprise penis-straw delivery from former friend Jaime King. Taylor is godmother to the actress' kids, but now that she's got her own kids to make, Jaime – who embarrassed the image-conscious Taylor with a public custody battle – has been shaken off the party lists.
That doesn't even graze the coming exhaustion of who will design the dress, where will they wed, and – oh my garden – who will the bridesmaids be?
I'm sorry but this stage-managed merger is all way too syrupy sweet for my taste. By the time they say 'I do' we'll need Ozempic to fight the collective diabetes.
Wait, is Serena Williams invited to the festivities? Maybe she can get us all a prescription.
