I accidentally tricked a bunch of Taylor Swift fans into thinking I knew her secrets
It all started with a tweet, as it so often does
by Amanda Ross
For the woefully uninitiated into the world of teen pop, “Haylor” is a portmanteau of Harry (Styles) and Taylor (Swift). The two dated on-and-off for a few years, though their lore and legend is life-or-death for their fans.
And just so you know, saying “Haylor” online is like saying “bomb” in an airport.
A few months ago, I accidentally ruined the lives of hundreds of Taylor Swift stans when I tweeted this:
Ok, so I just tweeted this into the virtual void when I was deep in my 1989 feels to my devoted fanbase of exactly 635 followers. Within seconds, I had a slew of tweens tweeting at me, demanding to know how I came across such privileged information.
And it wasn’t long before a whole mess of Taylor-dedicated Tumblrs started analyzing the shit out of my tweet:
It’s always been my dream to have the teens obsessed with me, so of course I milked it and started tweeting coy “oops, I said too much 0:)” messages. The rush of fame was super addictive, like now I understand why people shoot at presidents and start cults and stuff — I felt important and evil, like Scar from the Lion King or Donald Trump.
Then, they started getting dirt on me by hunting down my LinkedIn and other social media accounts to find out places I’ve worked, which somehow gave validity to my fake as fuck tweet??
Then that little spy army of Swifties tracked down my Tumblr and went apeshit in my messages. To my eternal regret, I deleted the dozens and dozens of questions in my inbox, but believe me when I say it was 100-plus and some of them were weird as fuck. I still have a few published:
Here’s where things got kind of weird. The fans started constructing very specific scenarios of what they thought happened, like that I was at a party with Taylor Swift and overheard something (r u serious, have u seen me?) or that I was at the Kings of Leon listening party where they all were:
First of all, whatever 11-year-old called me “a lady” can fuck off — I’m not a lady, I am a kid. A child of only 23, barely able to survive in this world on my own. I’m not an adult, do you understand, you stupid fucking children? I’m JUST. LIKE. YOU.
Honestly, it was at this point that I started to get weirded out. We’ve all seen how litigious Taylor Sue-ift can be, and the last thing I needed was a 5’10” blonde woman to ruin me financially — I’m already doing that to myself, ok?
I went ahead and deleted all the tweets, but this only made me look more credible.
Of course, like any celebrity, I had my doubters. But I’m Ray Charles to the bullshit. (Get it? He’s blind, he can’t see the haters).
The teens started to swarm, like a pack of genetically manipulated sharks. I appealed to the public for me and my family’s privacy during this personal and difficult time:
BUT THAT ONLY MADE ME LOOK BETTER?! I don’t understand how Lindsay Lohan fucked up her career because from here, it seems pretty impossible to shake these kids:
Finally, after a week of white-hot fame, I faded into oblivion. I guess, like Icarus, I flew too close to the Twitter sun.
What’s the lesson in all of this? That teens are crazy? That love conquers all? Honestly, it’s probably to never trust me with your secrets because clearly I’m a blabber.