Bible of truth Us Weekly is reporting that beloved singer Taylor Swift's whirlwind romance with RFK's grandson Conor Kennedy, an 18-year-old second-time high school junior, has ended. Yes the storied summer romance, which began, or was at least first noticed, around the Fourth of July and lasted surprisingly past Labor Day, has finally dried up and blown away like so many autumn leaves. The pair "quietly parted ways" a little while ago, says some sort of source (probably one of Conor's more ambitious classmates at Deerfield), but it was on good terms. "It was just a distance thing. No hard feelings. They're fine." Which, well, yeah, we should hope they're both fine. She's Taylor Swift and he's a freaking Kennedy. We think they'll land on their feet.
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But the Kennedy Compound will be a bit sadder and quieter, won't it? Haunted as it is now by Taylor's summery presence, now gone forever. Though, of course, she did buy that house across the street from the Kennedys, so what's to become of that? Will the furniture stay unused and sheet-draped forever? Will Taylor rent it out next summer to looky-loos hoping to feed off of the Kennedys' proximal energy? Will the coming Snor'eastercane simply dash it all into the sea? There's really no way to know. All we can say is, Taylor, if you're looking for a caretaker for the place, you know how to reach us. We'd gladly keep an eye on the place for you while the drama dies down or you look for a buyer. And, y'know, should any eligible Kennedy bachelor come a'knocking asking to borrow some sugar, we'll be happy to give it to him.
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So goodbye, sensational romance. It's too bad, but really, this was never going to work. She's a 22-year-old new money Nashville commodity, he's a teenage heir to a cursed fortune. Stories like that never end well. We know that nothing bad ever happens to the Kennedys, but what if something had, just this one time? It wasn't worth the risk. Better they part ways as they have, and that sometimes on balmy summer nights in the future Conor sits on the family porch and shivers a bit, pulling whatever horsey Miss Porter's grad he's dating at the moment closer to him, but thinking of her, only of Taylor, swearing he can hear her voice lilting on the breeze. And Taylor dozes on her tour bus, waking up suddenly and seeing the sign saying "Welcome to Massachusetts." She remembers it all just then, the hum of the wood-sided motorboat, the stiff rippling sound of a crisp flag in the wind, the clink of ice in glasses, the creak of the veranda. And they will be good memories to have, even if they make her a little sad from time to time.
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