I was just at my desk minding my own business, when our Slack channel erupted with a post announcing Taylor Swift's engagement to Travis Kelce. Along with the rest of the internet, I flipped through the slideshow of generic-looking engagement poses of the couple, including a closeup of Taylor's ring that appears only slightly smaller than a Super Bowl one. I was ready to fire up a zinger about the pop icon's announcement, style, anything—as a sometime social critic and off-hours Gen X slacker, that's my persona—but I had a surprising reaction instead. I burst into tears.

Ofc, not everyone's feeling this way. My 19-year-old son, a pop music fan who sings along to Midnights, opined that "at the end of the day, she's a billionaire who doesn't weigh in on important world issues. Billie Eilish has a lot of political opinions." (To which I must gently say: Shut it, son.) My boyfriend, a music bizzer who has championed Swift since her Nashville days, texted me that the announcement is "just in time for the NFL season AND her new album!" before asking me what the estimated price of the rock on her finger is.

Enough. Neither of you are getting it. This is our girl Taylor we're talking about, the home girl who once hosted scores of young fans in her home for listening parties, who let all of America sing along with her heartbreak, who fought battles both public and private and still showed up for us dancing with a broken heart.

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