Taylor, girlie, bestie, my emotional support blonde, I am so happy for you and Travis Kelce. I mean it. You guys are giving head cheerleader and quarterback energy, and I love that for you. You’re living out everyone’s Troy and Gabriella fantasies, complete with PDA after the big game in front of y’all’s moms. That works for you. But see, I never wanted to be Gabriella. And while Troy might be great for that cheeky post-game kiss, he isn’t going to rough and tumble me through the night. What I’m saying is, Taylor Swift can keep Travis because Jason is the only Kelce for me.
Travis treats her like a princess, but Jason would treat me like an innkeeper he’s forced to share a bed with — yet secretly yearns for — when a storm forces him to seek shelter with his trusted horse. (Clearly, I have been reading way too much smutty fantasy.) He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who asks if you finished, but rather the one who ensures it happens. He’s not intimidated by you bringing extra toys into the bedroom — hell, he’ll be the first to suggest it.
I don’t want a post-game kiss for the cameras. I want a man who will throw me onto a bed. I don’t want friendship bracelets. I want drinking competitions in a bar.
Travis is high school hot, but Jason is adult hot. He’s the kind of sexy that you can’t quite put your finger on. He looks like he needs a shower half the time, but I would happily join him in that shower. Jason is a bear. Not like the TV show The Bear that’s got us all thinking we could be chefs with our pesto pasta, but like a bear of a human being. I want him to wrap his huge arms around me and tell me I’m pretty.
While Travis is kind and supportive (except to Coach Andy Reid, lol), Jason seems like he would roast me. I can only imagine the kind of playful banter we’d have. We’d be insulting each other as a kind of sexual foreplay. He looks like the kind of guy that can’t help but grab my ass every time I walk past, and I fucking love that.
Travis is, simply put, too perfect for me. He’s the Ken doll of football players. And as you can likely ascertain from my horny ramblings, I am far from perfect. I’m more Weird Barbie than Margot Robbie. I don’t want Ken. I want whatever Jason Kelce is packing. I want the kind of guy who will tear off his shirt and jump from a suite just to keep the attention off of Tay Tay, his future sister-in-law (because we all know that was his intention).
Jason may seem cocky, and like he knows he’s got it, but I feel like, secretly, he’s as insecure as the rest of us (I studied psychology, so I know these things). As a result, he treats his woman like he is lucky to have her every goddamn day. So Kylie Kelce, hats off to you as you took home the real trophy. And Taylor, there is nothing wrong with second place.
