My Application For The Position of “Taylor Swift’s Boyfriend”

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If my first few years out of college taught me anything (besides how to make ramen appear more fancy than it has any right to be) it was how to apply for a job. I’m now out of the world of nine to five, but I’ve still got a good handle on what it takes to convince a massive corporate entity whose goals far outstrip my abilities that I’m a good candidate for it to bring aboard. I’ve decided to take these skills and harness them into applying for maybe the most challenging job in the world: Taylor Swift’s boyfriend.

At this point, T-Swizz is nothing if not a mega-corporation in the guise of a petite, bubbly 25-year-old woman. She’s the closest thing we’ve had to a consensus artist since Michael Jackson. By that, I mean that back in his prime, it didn’t matter what you were into, you were into Michael Jackson. The one thing that celebrity crushers, metal jammers, pop divas, rave kids, punk youths, hip hop heads, country twang cowboys, and general scumbags could agree on was that moonwalkin’ son of a bitch had the goods. Taylor Swift is getting close to that. The sportos, motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads — they all adore her. They think she’s a righteous dude.

In light of all of this, I want in. Men and boys (and probably a fair share of girls, too) are lining up around the block to date Taylor Swift. It’s an interesting position, because she’s traditionally been with pretty famous dudes with varying levels of success. One thing is for sure, if you date Taylor Swift, your experiences — good or bad — are gonna be fodder for a song at some point. And I’m on board. I may not have the facial hair game of Jake Gyllenhaal, the family breeding game of Conor Kennedy, or the delicious guitar riff game of John Mayer, but I’ve got some things. Let’s check out the résumé.

I have good taste.

The best pop music is always fueled by a love of all other kinds of music. When people complain about pop being a shallow, calculated genre, it’s not because pop has somehow changed over the years, it’s that pop songs without soul are much easier to spot than any other kind of song without soul. Taylor’s music has soul. Why? Because she has good taste, which means her influences are varied and scattered across genres, and she allows that taste to inform her when she works on her own songs. You can hear the individual influences in each song on her last record, and yet they still feel wholly hers. If there’s one thing that people with great taste love, it’s other people with great taste. I might not be a celebrated singer/songwriter, but I know my way around a mix CD. Seriously, I wrote a whole column about this. Twice.

I’m a reasonable man.

I had a temper once upon a time, by which I mean when I was twelve and hormones were decimating my ability to think rationally. But at this point in my life, I’m pretty much always calm, cool, collected, and generally cucumbery. Sure, I’ll occasionally get into impassioned debates with people at parties, fueled by alcohol, but that’s because I feel very strongly about Michael Bay and what his movies mean to the American experience. You guys know this. But on a day-to-day basis, I’m a relaxed, accepting guy. I try not to let big, loud events cloud my judgment. I’m unflappable. You cannot flap me. Dating someone whose life is a 24/7 roller coaster of craziness, where everyone is wanting a piece of her doesn’t faze me. I can handle paparazzi, crazed fans, creepy stalkers, magazine rumors, mean internet comments, and crazy travel schedules. As long as you pack movies and a bottle of whiskey, I’m happy anywhere.

I have the qualifications to be the manliest housewife ever.

Quick checklist: mad cooking skills, a shocking appreciation of cleanliness, a lifetime of building things with my hands, and a killer instinct for finding new things on Netflix. I’m no slouch in the bedroom, either. Sure, I don’t have the sexual tenacity and insanity of Sting, but I do well for myself. I’ll be happy to provide references from the girls who are still speaking to me.

I have a thick skin.

Let’s be honest — dating anyone who’s famous is a minefield, let alone someone whose penchant for working out relationship frustrations in song hangs over the head of her boyfriends like the Sword of Damocles (Taylor gets the reference, the rest of you plebs can google it). But you know what? I don’t give a fuck. You can’t scare me. Anything that anyone says about me has already been shouted inside my head by my scumbag brain thousands of times. I’m a self-honest dude. Here are some facts. The last few years of pizza, booze, and loss of organized sports have taken a toll. Some might lovingly refer to my shape as “dad body-esque,” but that’s generous. If Taylor dates me, we will 100 percent set the record for “SHE’S DATING HIM?!” tabloid covers. Lyle Lovett ain’t got nothin’ on me. Is any of that gonna bother me? No chance. Because I know I make up for my outer appearance with wit, charm, and the hair of a Romney who’s ascended to Mount Olympus. I’m serious. My hair is THAT good.

I do my own thing, but I’ll never overshadow her.

That always seems to be the fly in the ointment of celebrity pairings, doesn’t it? One partner being more successful than the other. Well, guess what? It doesn’t matter how hard I try, because it’s not going to happen here. Seriously, I write movies for a living, and screenwriters aren’t exactly notorious for…well, anything. Think about it. How many screenwriters can the average person name? Aaron Sorkin, maybe? Do any of you reading this know who William Goldman is? He’s arguably the greatest screenwriter in the history of film, and no one outside of industry people and big film buffs gives a fuck, which is awesome. I could become the greatest to ever do my job in the history of my profession, and my girlfriend/potential wife (sorry if I’m getting ahead of myself, Taylor) will always be more famous, talented, and celebrated than I am. Success crisis averted.

So that’s the deal, Taylor. I’m willing to give this a shot if you are. I’ll be the Murtaugh to your Riggs. The Hobbes to your Calvin. The Rizzoli to your Isles. (Or whichever of those isn’t the alpha dog, I honestly don’t know who is who on that show). I’m not volunteering to be some weak-willed, ambitionless boyfriendbot. I still have goals and opinions. I’ll tell you when I think the new song you’re working on still needs work. Here’s what I’m saying: I won’t be pushed into the trunk with your luggage, but I am willing to sit in the passenger seat, help you navigate, and pick the music.

Okay, fine, some of the music..

Image via Featureflash / Shutterstock.com

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