i don’t cater to all these vipers.

this blog is something i’ve been sitting with for months, trying to articulate: it’s about taylor swift, our favorite pop sensation who can turn a breakup into a billboard hit, but also about so much more…

it baffles me that some women take issue with taylor writing about her relationships, her exes, the breakups, and choose to judge her negatively for speaking out. you’d think they’d be cheering her on for making millions off her heartache, but instead, there’s judgment, eye-rolling, and whispers that maybe she should just keep quiet about it.

that judgment? it’s not just about taylor. it’s about something bigger, something lurking in the shadows of our collective consciousness: internalized misogyny.

it’s part of a long history of silencing women, of telling them to keep quiet about their experiences, especially when it comes to relationships.

never be so polite you forget your power.

men have been writing about their exes since, well, forever. and when they do, they’re hailed as poetic geniuses, chroniclers of the human condition. but when taylor swift does it, suddenly it’s “oh, she’s so petty,” or “why can’t she just move on?” the double standard is glaring, but somehow, it keeps slipping under the radar.

it’s like this: women have been trained – by society, by culture, by history – to keep their emotions in check, to not make a fuss, especially over a man. when swift refuses to follow those unspoken rules, it ruffles feathers. and not just any feathers: women’s feathers. because deep down, many of us have internalized the idea that a “good” woman doesn’t make her private life public.

the best people in life are free.

here’s the thing: internalized misogyny is sneaky. it’s that voice inside that tells women to play nice, to not air their dirty laundry, to keep their emotions under wraps. so when taylor swift takes a bad breakup and turns it into a number-one hit, some women cringe. not because there’s anything wrong with what she’s doing, but because they’ve been taught women aren’t supposed to do that. they’re not supposed to make a scene.

and let’s be real, taylor is making a scene – a glorious, chart-topping, grammy-winning scene. but for some women, that scene breaks all the rules they’ve been taught to follow, and instead of questioning the rules (or their beliefs), they question her.

women love hunting witches, too.

this isn’t anything new. women have a long history of persecuting other women for doing things they aren’t bold or brave enough to do. taylor swift doesn’t just get flak for writing about her exes – she gets flak for having exes in the first place. the narrative goes something like this: if a woman has too many relationships, she’s somehow less. less respectable, less desirable, less everything. it’s a twisted, outdated idea that a woman’s worth is tied to her romantic history.

and who’s dishing out this judgment? often, it’s other women. it’s a textbook case of internalized misogyny – women absorbing the same toxic messages that have been used to control them for generations and then turning those messages on each other.

people throw rocks at things that shine.

here’s the kicker: in all the criticism taylor faces, how often do we talk about the guys she’s writing about? not much. instead, the spotlight stays on her, as if her reaction to their behavior is the real problem. the guy could have been a jerk, a cheater, or just plain absent, but somehow, it’s taylor’s response that gets all the attention.

this is classic internalized misogyny at work – shifting the focus from a man’s bad behavior to a woman’s emotional response. it’s a tale as old as time: blame the woman, excuse the man. and when other women buy into this narrative, they’re reinforcing a system that’s been holding them down for centuries.

i could build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me.

so, what’s taylor swift really doing when she writes about her exes? she’s owning her narrative. she’s refusing to be silenced, to be shamed, or to play by anyone else’s rules. she’s turning her personal experiences into art that resonates with millions, and in doing so, she’s challenging the very norms that some women have internalized.

i don’t regret it one bit cuz he had it coming.

next time you hear someone say taylor swift should stop writing about her exes, take a second to think about where that’s coming from. is it really about her music? or is it about something deeper, something that’s been ingrained in us without us even realizing it?

internalized misogyny is a powerful thing. but the more we talk about it, the less power it has. and maybe, just maybe, we can start giving women the space to tell their stories – no matter how messy, emotional, or public they might be. because if there’s one thing taylor swift has taught us, it’s that there’s nothing more powerful than owning your story, no matter what anyone else thinks.

now, to the women rolling their eyes at taylor’s lyrics and turning up their noses at her success: it’s laughable, really. imagine getting mad at a woman for making millions off emotional labor while half the world suffers in silence. ladies, where is your business acumen? taylor’s out here signing record deals with her tear-stained stationery, while you’re busy clutching pearls over things you wish you had the guts to say yourself.

it’s the worst men that i write best.

for a long time i carried a silence around my ex like a heavy cloak, a shield against judgment and pity. i believed that talking about him would somehow reflect poorly on me, as if his actions were a measure of my worth. the memory of his betrayal felt like a stain on my heart, something best hidden away, locked in the depths of my thoughts.

it took time to realize that there was no shame in trusting someone i loved. love is a leap of faith, a journey into vulnerability where trust blossoms like a delicate flower. when i opened my heart to him, i wasn’t naïve or foolish; i was brave. i chose to believe in the goodness of his intentions, in the sincerity of his words.

but when that trust was shattered, it felt like the ground beneath me crumbled. questions swirled in my mind like a storm: was i not enough? did i miss the signs? was it my fault?

in the midst of this turmoil, it became clear my friends didn’t understand. i withdrew into myself and i don’t think they even noticed. leaving me utterly alone during the worst time in my life. i was still reeling from my dad’s passing and i was not ready nor capable to process another loss. without support, i felt stranded, unable to share my pain. i didn’t want their pity or judgment. so, i buried it deep within, pretending it didn’t exist, painting on a smile when all i wanted to do was scream. lonely wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how i felt in that time. the loneliness was suffocating, a constant reminder of my isolation.

it took time, months turning into years, before i found the courage to confront my silence. i realized that my ex’s actions were a reflection of him, not of me. i was not defined by his choices. i had loved fiercely and completely, and that was something to cherish, not hide away.

slowly, i began to speak about him, about us, about the lessons learned through tears and heartache. i discovered that vulnerability is not weakness but strength. it is in sharing our stories, our struggles, and our triumphs that we find connection and healing.

today, i no longer carry that silence like a burden. instead, i wear my story with pride, a testament to resilience and the unwavering belief in love. trusting someone, even if it ends in betrayal, is not a flaw but a testament to the depth of our hearts and the courage to keep loving despite the risks.

and i’ve realized something else: it’s often the worst men that i write the best. the ones who hurt me, who left scars on my heart, they inspire the most profound reflections. their actions, while painful, push me to explore the depths of my emotions and transform that pain into art. there’s power in taking the hurt they caused and molding it into something beautiful and meaningful.

there is no shame in trusting the person you love. it is in the giving of ourselves that we truly live, learning and growing from every experience, even the ones that leave us broken for a while.

the worst men, they leave the best stories, and maybe that’s their only redeeming quality.

the magnetic pull of a love story.

isn’t it intriguing how love can ignite unexpected sparks and forge connections that defy explanation? i’ve always been the kind of person who stays friends with my exes. some people find it strange, but to me, it’s a testament to the connection we shared. after all, love doesn’t just disappear because a relationship ends; it transforms, it lingers, it finds new ways to exist.

there’s this pattern i’ve noticed, something almost magical. it seems that every man i’ve loved and left, or who has left me (i know…it’s hard to believe, but it’s happened), describes their experience of falling in love with me in strikingly similar terms. they speak of the chemistry as unmatched, a spark that set their world ablaze. they call me magnetic, say i have a pull that’s impossible to resist.

they tell me stories of how their hearts raced the first time we met, how every touch felt electric, and how conversations with me were like nothing they’d ever known. it’s like reading different chapters of the same book, each one recounting the same wonder, the same awe.

“you have this way about you,” one of them once said, a smile playing on his lips. “it’s like you see right into my soul and pull out the best parts of me.”

another ex, years after our breakup, confided, “being with you felt like being alive in a way i didn’t know was possible. the chemistry we had…i’ve never felt that with anyone else.”

these words, this recurring narrative, got me thinking. how is it that different men, at different times in my life, describe their love for me in almost identical ways? is it them, or is it me? is there something in the way i love, the way i connect, that creates this extraordinary bond? (spoiler: it’s not me, but let’s pretend)

the more i pondered, the more i realized that it’s not just about romantic relationships. this magnetic pull, this unmatched chemistry, it’s something deeper. it’s about the energy we bring into the world, the authenticity with which we live our lives. it’s about being fully present, about seeing people for who they truly are and letting them see you in return.

love, in all its forms, is transformative. it’s not about possession or permanence; it’s about the impact we have on each other’s lives. these men, these loves, they were mirrors reflecting back to me my own capacity for passion, for deep connection, for vulnerability.

staying friends with exes has taught me that love evolves. it’s not confined to the traditional boundaries of a relationship. we can carry the essence of those connections forward, allowing them to shape us, to teach us, to remind us of our own magnetic pull.

in a way, this recurring experience of love speaks to something bigger, something more meaningful. it’s about the human desire to connect, to be seen, to be understood. it’s about the magic that happens when two souls meet and recognize something familiar in each other.

and maybe, just maybe, it’s a reminder that we are all capable of being that spark, that magnetic force, for someone else. it’s about being open, being real, and letting the chemistry of connection work its magic, time and time again.

as i continue on this journey, i am grateful for these echoes of love, these reflections of my own heart. they remind me that love, in all its forms, is the most powerful force of all. and that, in itself, is something truly extraordinary. and maybe that’s why i’ve spent a lifetime chasing the right words to capture these feelings…

must be something in the water.

recently i’ve received a few unhinged messages from men of my past. i typically find this somewhat entertaining, but i’m noticing that i’m less and less interested in these trauma dumps. sure, everything is copy, but i might be past the age of doing things for the story.

anyway, my husband and i were laughing about this because they all live in the same east coast town. are you guys okay out there?

she would’ve made such a lovely bride…

let me tell you a story…

i was 22 and we had been dating for 2 months when he surprised me with a trip to nyc for new year’s eve. unfortunately, his plans for the night were standing in the freezing cold, where i couldn’t eat (or pee), to watch the ball drop in times square. (honestly, i’m still mad about this and text him from time to time demanding an apology. what’s even weirder is he had just done this a year or two before and i cannot understand why anyone would want to do this once, let alone twice. it’s miserable.) as a general rule, i want to be warm and i want to be fed.

anyway, right at midnight i turned to give him the obligatory midnight kiss to find that he was holding out a ring. i was in complete shock (there’s a photo of this moment – that i won’t share because he deserves his anonymity – where i’m standing there slack-jawed and completely dumbfounded). the truth is, i didn’t want to say yes…i also didn’t want to embarrass him. so, i said nothing. eventually, he put the ring on my finger…

and there started my year long attempt to extricate myself from the situation. i was 22, i had no business getting married, and my heart was not clear of the one who came before.

i will spare you (and him) the details of the relationship. i held off on writing this blog for so long because i didn’t want to hurt him. 20 years later, we finally had a debrief on the dissolution of our union.

about 10 years ago, i heard that he was telling people he ended our relationship. untrue, but i didn’t care enough to correct it. i thought it was funny and moved on with my life. in fact, he flew across the country to show up at my front door months after our breakup to celebrate my birthday with me and since i already had plans with a friend, we proceeded to have the most awkward dinner in the history of ever, especially after he learned that i had been seeing someone new…and we had even kissed, once. (broken up for months, guys. i refused to feel badly about this.)

a family member insisted upon correcting the story.

family member: but it’s a lie! he shouldn’t lie.

me: let him lie. it doesn’t hurt me.

family member: but it’s not right!

me: it makes no difference in my life.

for me, the high road is typically the one not taken (i’m not proud of this, it’s just a fact. the truth is more important than the consequences in most circumstances).

anyway, during my debrief with this ex i finally asked him about telling everyone he had dumped me. his response was “well, i was responsible for the actions that led to you ending the relationship so in my mind, i was the one that ended things.” HUH?!

i love this junior high logic so much. and boy am i glad i didn’t ever marry him.