Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Serial dater, Taylor Swift. Heartbreaker, Taylor Swift. Maneater, Taylor Swift.” She threw magazine after magazine down on the coffee table, each one with a little bit more force. “Might as well just say what they mean; slut!” Tears sprung to her eyes and she wiped at them angrily, too proud to let them fall.

Tree Paine, Taylor’s publicist, nodded her head slowly as she watched her client vent to the otherwise empty room. She’d joined 13 Management prior to the roll-out of Taylor last album, 1989, at a fairly turbulent yet successful point in her career. It was fair to say that while being far from a controversial or problematic client, that Taylor racked up a substantial amount of negative press attention for quite normal behaviour. There was certainly a strong whiff of misogyny and plenty of pearl clutching about the tone of the press when they discussed the pop princess and it had only been gaining traction lately.

“I am not a child. I am in my twenties. I am allowed to have fun.” Taylor had stressed at a recent meeting of the management group when talk had inevitably turned to the negative attention.

Always a fierce supporter of her daughter, Andrea had settled a hand on her arm and squeezed supportively. “Of course you are, Sweetie.”

Scott had rubbed his hand across his brow in frustration. “It just…it’s all about perception. And when you’re being seen with a lot of men-”

“A lot of men?!” Taylor’s derisive laugh exploded forth from her, and a few people around the table winced. “Gee Dad, tell me how you really feel. I have literally dated 10 men in my whole life but every time I so much as work with, stand next to, have a drink at a party with some guy, then according to everyone he’s my next boyfriend. It’s making me crazy!”

It was true. It was literally driving her insane. She felt herself watching in an out of body experience at times, how people would perceive her interactions with men. She felt eyes on her at all times, judging her, whispering to their friends, spreading rumours and gossip when she so much as smiled at a guy. It was enough to make her want to hide away, to keep things secretive and private to avoid any tabloid speculation. Not that there was much of anything going on these days.

“I know, Taylor. But like it or not, country music required a certain image and people are having a hard time with you breaking away from that.” Her father tried to reason with her.

Taylor rolled her eyes and barely restrained herself from stomping her foot in frustration. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know.” She snapped. “All the prudes and the pearl clutchers can’t stand that I’m not some virginal princess for them to still lock up in their ivory tower.”

Scott winced and several of the other older members of Taylor’s management group shifted uncomfortably in their seats, as if this was perhaps a more private conversation that they would rather not be party to. It only served to rile Taylor up further though, as if confirming her statement. “Newsflash, I have sex and it is literally nobody's business but my own.”

“Nobody is saying that you can’t have relationships Taylor.” Her father skirted the fact that she’d literally just told the entire room about her sex life. “The coverage is mostly about the assumed casual nature of them and how…well how short-lived they are.”

“Taylor Swift can’t keep a man.” She snapped, parroting one of the media’s favourite narratives about her. “No matter what happens, it is always my fault that they leave. That’s what people think.”

Andrea hummed softly and rubbed her hand against Taylor’s arm. “You’ll find a good man, Sweetie. Got to kiss a few frogs first, right?” Standing up from the table, she clapped her hands together to signal that this discussion was over. She knew her daughter, and despite her fiery display she could tell that this conversation had wounded her. It was one thing to read about a stranger's misguided opinions on your love life and another entirely to hear your choices criticised by your loved ones.

Now flopped against the couch cushions, with her arms draped dramatically over her eyes, Taylor sighed. Tree cleared her throat quietly and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So now would be an awful time to tell you that the Warner production company has reached out to discuss you being the next Bachelorette?”

Taylor sat up sharply, her eyes zeroing in on her publicist and her mouth literally hanging open. “The fuck?” She whispered into the silence.

Tree honestly couldn’t tell what Taylor was thinking. She normally had a pretty good read on situations, and she’d been learning quickly about her client since taking her on last year. But this one was a little unusual. “They wanted to gauge your interest.” She said quietly, smoothing her hand over her jeans. “They had heard you were a fan of the show and they thought it would be a good fit for their brand.”

Taylor snorted. “I’ll bet they do. Nothing screams ‘Serial Dater’ like dating twenty guys at once.”

“Well, it might let you control the narrative for once. People could see how discerning you are about your relationships; you could tell your story for once, without people twisting your lyrics to fit their theories.”

Tilting her head, Taylor surveyed her publicist with a still sceptical eye. “My parents, my team, they would never agree to this…”

Tree’s lips twisted into a small smirk. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” she grinned. “Your Mom is such a fan of the show and your Dad did seem to think it would be positive press attention.”

“But…but it ends in a ring. Like I would literally be getting engaged to someone at the end of this.” Taylor gaped, her mind whirling dangerously.

Tree squeezed Taylor’s knee gently. “Only if you’re in love, Tay.”

“Right, right.” Taylor murmured. I mean she had always imagined herself getting married young but that had been before her career had really kicked into gear. Could she do this? Was there room in this crazy life for a life partner? “Can I think about it?” She asked quietly. She really needed to talk to her best friends about this, and her Mom.

“So let me get this straight - your label is nervous about how often you’re labelled a slut in the media so naturally they’re green lighting you to go on a dating show where you literally date multiple men at once?” Selena made a face as she picked up her wine glass and watched as Taylor nodded her head in amusement.

Tipping her head back to stare at the ceiling for a second, Taylor’s eyes found her friend’s once more. “Yeah. Doesn’t make much sense does it?” She scratched her forearm nervously and then looked up at one of her longest friends in showbiz. “Is it insane that I’m considering it?”

Selena bit her lip and thought about how best to answer. She’s seen Taylor go through some tough spots particularly in relation to her reputation with men. They’d both experienced the intoxicating flirtations and advances of other A-listers which had inevitably ended in well-publicised disaster. She too was no stranger to the weird obsession of her purity as a teenager and how awkwardly it was handled by the adults who had managed her. But they were both grown up now and she hated to see her friend still so chewed out by the public for her perfectly natural 20-something dating habits.

“I think you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t, Tay.” She eventually sighed. “You could keep dating cute guys you meet at Hollywood parties and award shows and who knows, maybe find the one. Or…you could literally audition the perfect boyfriend. You know they ask what you like, vet them and then let you try before you buy.” Selena found herself beginning to understand the merits of this frankly insane option.

“Yeah all while a camera crew follows your every move and then it gets broadcast to the world!” Taylor rolled her eyes. “I mean is it even possible for something to feel real in that environment?”

Selena laughed, throwing her head back. “Tell me this Tay, when has dating any of your exes ever felt ‘real’?”

She had a point. Since the beginning of her career, with her every move tracked and dissected, every relationship that Taylor had ever been in had felt like it was under a microscope. From papwalks to long lenses on private islands, she’d never really felt like her dating life was something that had belonged just to her. Was this just the case of commodifying it, since it was never going to be what she really desired?

“So…” Selena leant forwards conspiratorially, “Are we making the list of your demands, or what?”

After 2 hours and at least another bottle of white wine, they had finally assembled Taylor’s list of requirements for her ‘dream man’.

“He’s gotta be 22-35. Taller than you and takes care of himself physically. A nice smile, good teeth.” Selena reeled off, point by point.

“This is starting to sound like I’m just chopping up body parts and making my own Frankenstein’s monster.” Taylor groaned.

Selena carried on, ignoring her as she got engrossed in the list. “You’re not bothered about hair or eye colour. He’s got to have a job and be passionate about something, whether it’s work or a hobby. Self-sufficient and not after your money is a must. It would be a bonus if he already lived in New York or LA but you’ve got the jet so travel isn’t an issue. Has to be down with the cats, no fur allergies tolerated.”

“Scratch the Frankenstein theory…I’m the monster.” Taylor threw her arm over her eyes theatrically. “Does this man even exist? Am I asking for too much?”

“You’d like for his family to be important to him, or at least that he could fit into yours. Gets along well with others, doesn’t mind being a plus 1 to industry shit and can live in the ‘fish bowl’ with you.” Selena finished up, nodding her head. “I mean I think this guy is who you deserve. Is it really too much to ask for?”

Rolling her eyes, Taylor thought about a few of her exes. “Well history would suggest it might just be.”

Taylor lay stretched out on her stomach, on her childhood bed in her mother’s Nashville home, watching an old episode of The Bachelorette. She tilted her head as she watched a man in a sharp-fitting suit take the hand of the girl and lead her towards the candlelit table, pulling out her seat and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek as she sat down.

A soft knock on the door broke her focus and she smiled as she saw her mother hovering in the doorway with two steaming mugs of tea. “Doing a little research, sweetie?” She asked as she passed Taylor a mug and settled herself on the end of the bed like she’d done many times in Taylor’s adolescence.

“I guess, just trying to make an informed decision.” Taylor hummed as she sat up and leant back against the mess of pillows scattered at the head of her bed. “I love the show but…is this the right fit for me? Is this really how I’m gonna find ‘The One’?”

Andrea smiled softly, reaching out a hand for Taylor’s fuzzy sock covered foot and squeezing it. Her daughter had always been a hopeless romantic, obsessed with fairytale romance, tragic love stories and happily-ever-afters. “You know I’m not sure there is just one person for everyone Taylor. I believe in soul mates but also that ‘the one’ can be situational.” She paused as she watched her daughter’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Say you meet someone in your teens, and he’s sweet and lovely and would make a great husband and father in your 30s but you’re just not ready for him yet. Or the perfect guy also has a flourishing career and your crazy jet set lifestyles just aren’t compatible for now. I think you can grow and change together, but it’s tough when it's the right guy, wrong time. All of these men have the potential to be ‘The One’ but the circumstances dictate whether you can see it.”

Taylor sighed as she blew on her mug of tea, watching the steam swirl in the air. “Can I bring you with me? No, seriously, you’re so much cheaper than therapy.”

“That’s what Mama’s are for.” Andrea smiled. “I’m only a phone call away, baby.”

The FaceTime call connected and after a moment of scrambling pixels, Taylor watched the face of her friend Ashley come into focus. “Talk to me about Fantasy Suites.” Taylor huffed out a breath, her bangs blowing up and falling messily over her forehead. “I want to know I’m not crazy for entertaining this idea.”

Ashley squealed and hurled herself at her couch, ready for this discussion. “Yes babe!” She had been Taylor’s number 1 cheerleader on the idea of being The Bachelorette. “Come on, you watch the show. Tell me what you’re worried about?”

Taylor covered her eyes briefly with her hand and then fixed her stare on her best friend. “I mean, you know how paranoid I am about getting caught. Literally, Harry and I fought about it all the time.”

“There’s no cameras in the Suites though. They usually just show a bit of kissing, like a hot and heavy makeout and then shutting the door. I mean it implies that you get up to something but…it can be…tasteful?” Even Ashley herself didn’t sound fully convinced. They’d both watched Kaitlyn Bristowe’s series and were acutely recalling her breathy moans recorded through the door and the not so subtle implication of the rustling of sheets and the creak of the bedframe.

“No I know they’re not going to see me actually having sex! But that’s exactly it, say I do choose to sleep with one of the guys, it means there’s always going to be some video confirming it and what sex hair and a smirk isn’t going to be a PR nightmare for me?” Taylor moaned as she envisioned the tabloid headlines.

Ashley picked up her wine glass and twirled the stem between her fingers as she thought about Taylor’s predicament. “Well, I think that even if your crusty old management team doesn’t want to think about it, everyone already assumes that you’re sleeping with every guy you seriously date because…well duh you’re a normal human with needs. This way, you get to control the image and narrative of it. Instead of ‘Taylor Swift’s a slut who sleeps with loads of guys’ you get to show that you have standards and respect yourself but that you’re also a girl in your twenties who’s just looking for love.”

“Yeah…” Taylor frowned, fiddling with her sleeve as she toyed with her next thought. “I mean, the idea of getting engaged to someone without spending the night together first sounds insane. I just…I don’t know. I’ve never exactly had a stacked roster of guys but I’ve casually dated and sleeping with two guys at once was not my thing, it just felt icky. Aren’t you like expected to take all the guys to the Fantasy Suites even if you don’t actually hook up?”

Ashley cast her mind back over the series she’d watched. Admittedly, she’d watched more episodes of The Bachelor than The Bachelorette but if they were all about equality then it shouldn’t really matter. “I mean the dudes seem to invite everyone, the ladies maybe two outta three. Do they all have sex? No, I don’t think so.”

“Isn’t that like such a double standard? And would I really want to get engaged to someone who had literally been inside someone else a few days before?” Taylor ran her fingers distractedly through her hair.

Ashley laughed as Taylor didn’t even realise that she’d contradicted herself. “Sweetie. If you were just in it to hook up then sleep with every damn contestant and enjoy yourself, but it sounds like you actually want to take this seriously so maybe proceed with caution and only go as far as you feel comfortable with on national TV.”

Taylor groaned again. “Why is this so confusing? It hasn’t even started yet and I’m regretting it.”

“That’s showbusiness babe!” Ashley grinned, raising her glass to Taylor.