I’m not going to lie: When I saw that Taylor Swift and her boyfriend of six years, Joe Alwyn, had broken up, I was genuinely sad. Taylor is my age and like many other women at a similar stage of life, we’ve all been falling in love, falling out of love and being independent women together. But what makes this T. Swift break up just so damn sad?
For starters, we were all pretty sure Joe Alwyn was the one. Joe seems like a darn nice – and darn talented – man. He seemed content to do his thing, T. Swift hers, and the rest (we hoped) was chugging along in the background. After years of the media tearing into Swift for dating like a normal adult female, we wondered if, as she herself sang, “is this the end of all the endings” as the Alwyn romance evolved.
The tabloids are generally trash (obviously) but one of the Daily Mail’s “sources” claimed that Swift and Alwyn’s relationship simply “ran its course.” There was nothing nasty about it. No one was to blame. It was just one of those things that came to a close.
As I drove home today, one of Swift’s songs, “Anti-Hero,” began to play. Somewhat tragically, I skipped to a different artist. I just felt so damn sad imagining this woman living in that raw post break-up phase because the love she once had had “run its course.” What was it about that phrase or, more importantly, what it meant, that broke my heart on Swift’s behalf?
Most of us have had a relationship, probably like Swift and Alwyn’s, that seemed and felt mostly positive; it appeared as if it would go the distance. Those relationships are no drama, no fuss, packed with comfort.and genuine love. You couldn’t imagine it coming to a close because it would just seem illogical for it to end.
And yet sometimes the universe has other plans. People change careers, someone fantasizes about moving to a new place, or you turn a milestone age and it suddenly feels like you’re floating out to sea on a comfortable life raft – you’re not at risk of drowning, but the ship you were on has asked you to hop off into unknown waters (another boat will meet you at some point before the horizon).
When I was 17, I dated a guy from my high school for about a year. I had already graduated and he was a year behind. I was spending some time working and saving money before going to college, and he was applying to colleges with fervor.
Our relationship was mostly drama free (a contrast to my previous relationship dating the shittiest guy in Scotland). We talked most nights on the phone. We went on dates to the movies and saved up our money for the occasional nice dinner. I got along with his friends. I spent Sunday afternoons eating roasts with his family. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but for it to end seemed nonsensical. Where were we to go if not to each other?
Then, a year in, I traveled to London (an hour or so flight from my hometown) for college visiting day. Suddenly, in the midst of this big, new city with all its culture and music and lights and excitement, the face of my high school boyfriend got slotted to the back of my brain. I wrestled and lambasted my thought patterns for days. I was horrified by my betrayal for a sweet guy who had treated me well and vice versa.
Why was this person, who was once so important, no longer at the forefront of my mind?
Thirteen years on from my “run its course” breakup, I realize that some love is rooted in certain times and places. Some love is a step towards another phase of life. And while these “run its course” relationships push us into warmer waters, their endings are no less sad and their heartbreak no less awful.