It’s been just about a year now that the Celebrity Coupling From Which There is No Escape began. In fact, it was 51 weeks ago that I came upon the conspiracy theory that the whole thing was arranged prior to the Chiefs Week 4 game in New York, so that when you searched “taylor swift jets,” you got images of her in the owner’s box at MetLife, instead of articles about how the massive carbon footprint generated from her excessive private air travel was killing polar bears or something.
That was 12 long, painful, insufferable months ago. Since then, this relationship has blocked the sun and left the rest of us norms shivering in the cold of the dark shadow it has cast. They’ve been worse than ubiquitous. They’ve been living the best lives of anyone on the planet. Everything Taylor and Travis Kelce have touched has turned to Unobtanium. They’ve put all us normies to shame. They haven’t made a mistake. Had a setback. Been anything other than perfectly perfect in a perfect way.
