Chances are you’ve heard of Taylor Swift’s mega-popular The Eras Tour that’s been so oversubscribed it’s crashing events sites left, right, and centre—and risen to the top of countless fans’ bucket lists.
More than 22 million registered for her Singapore concerts, her only stop in South East Asia. With 300,000 seats available across six shows, that makes your chance of success… just over 1%. I was one of those 22 million. And with the odds stacked ever so high against me, you won’t be surprised to hear I won’t be going.
In fact, I didn’t even get to join the ticket sale. Out of the millions registered, only a handful were selected—and given access codes—to enter the fight of their lives. The rest were relegated to the black hole that is the waitlist.
I’d registered for Singapore (my top choice), London (second choice), and Liverpool (third choice). I had no plans to be in the UK in June/July of 2024, which is when the London/Liverpool concerts will take place, but I was willing to fly across the world just to see Taylor perform live.
When I got waitlisted for Singapore, I was disappointed, but not surprised. When, a week later, I got waitlisted for London and Liverpool, I was crestfallen. I was convinced I’d lost my chance, that the concerts would sell out immediately, that there was no way there’d be tickets left for the waitlisted fans.
So you won’t be surprised to hear I cried like a baby when, a mere four days later, this happened:
A lifelong dream
My partner—who’s a music connoisseur if ever there was one—often jokes that the only singer I know is Taylor Swift. Though not strictly accurate, there is much truth in his statement.
I grew up listening to Taylor Swift. In fact, I grew up with Taylor Swift—we’re the same age, as I’ll never tire of pointing out. Aged 19, I was finishing high school in the UK when Love Story became a mega hit. Much of that year and the next, you could easily catch me humming tunes from her Fearless album as I went about my daily tasks—cooking, cleaning, reading, driving. And every single album she’s released since, I’ve listened to on repeat, cover to cover.
In short, I’m a Taylor Swift fan. Her music has coloured my life for a decade and a half. It has brought tears of sadness and joy. It’s the music I sing to, dance to, love to, live to. If there’s a soundtrack to my life, it’s Taylor.
When she announced The Eras Tour in the US, the thought that I’d get to be in a stadium with her never crossed my mind. When she announced international dates, I resolved to do my best but didn’t dare hope. When I got waitlisted for all my registered concerts, I meekly accepted my fate. I deleted all the calendar events I had for the ticket sales. I won’t be going, and that’s that.
You’re off the waitlist!
Last Tuesday was a busy day. I spent the morning working at my partner’s family home—our base during our London trip—had lunch, then in the afternoon dragged my carry-on across London to my friend’s place, where I was staying for a few days so we could catch up properly. Once arrived at my friend’s, I settled down to work in the children’s playroom.
Around 5pm, I decided to end my work day and casually checked my personal inbox, and my heart dropped when I saw that an email had come in an hour earlier merrily announcing “You’re off the waitlist!”
Fuck—was my first thought. I’m an hour too late. My hands shaking, I clicked through to the Ticketmaster website and followed the instructions as swiftly as I could. Forty minutes (that felt like a second) later, I had my confirmation email: I’m going to Taylor Swift’s Liverpool concert next June.
I still can’t believe it’s happening, I won’t until I’ve laid eyes on my ticket.1 But at the same time it also feels meant to be.
When I registered for the Liverpool dates, a wishful thought crossed my mind: Wouldn’t it be amazing if I got to see Taylor perform in Liverpool at Anfield stadium, home to the football club I’ve supported since I was a wee child, the place I burst into tears visiting on a football pilgrimage ten years ago?
And now that it’s happening, it feels like fate. It feels like I was always meant to see Taylor perform—sing Love Story with her at the top of my lungs alongside tens of thousands of fans—at Anfield.
My 19-year-old self could never have imagined it. And if I could travel back in time to tell her, she probably wouldn’t stop crying for joy.
I’m 34 now. But seeing the confirmation pop up on my screen last Tuesday, I felt 19 all over again, the luckiest girl in the world.
What do you think?
A different kind of newsletter today, but I’ve still got a question for you:
Has anything ever happened to you that felt meant to be?
Was it an artist you were dying to see? A years-long crush who turned out to have had eyes on you all along? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this with someone whose presence in your life is meant to be.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val
Photo by Chaz McGregor on Unsplash
Apparently, mobile tickets will be available “at least three days before the event.” Thanks, Ticketmaster.