Kourtney and Travis are what everyone hopes their second acts would be
Where there is smoke, there is fire. I learned this concept young, from my beloved tabloid magazines long before I ever witnessed it in the flesh as an adult. And last February, my honed skills confirmed a suspicion gleaned from sparse emoji comments on Instagram: there is something here. They are dating.
Kourtney Kardashian and Travis Barker confirmed their relationship soon thereafter. Her tulip-red manicure embraced his tattooed grip in an Instagram post, which followers around the world inferred every tidbit of knowledge from. The hottest couple of 2021 wasn’t two TikTok-ing teens, but people I have been interested in since we relied on television and tabloids for gossip. And this, in itself, was exciting.
Like many elder millennials old enough to see Blink-182 in concert and reminisce about Kourtney Before Kids, I could not get enough. I consumed them in a manner I thought I’d forgotten, once reserved for checkout lines at the grocery store or on MTV after school. The way I cheered for their mounting breadcrumbs of romance, you would think they were a reincarnated Britney and Justin, their denim jumpsuits repurposed into black leather. Over the past many months, my adoration has not soured. If anything, it has swelled, culminating in their recent engagement, a true joy to bear witness to (on my phone).
I’ve thought about this a lot, and my love for their love is not an accident. There are reasons why a certain generation of women find their story so appealing.
First is their history as friends. The two allegedly bonded over being early families of reality television, Travis encouraging the Kardashian Klan to pursue their hit series. I have a feeling some of this public storyline created itself. However, there is sanctity in a long-term relationship, even one that begins as platonic and matures into more. Those years before a leap into something serious should not be discounted, as they can offer a chance to truly get to know your partner without the pretense or worry of where things might go. I began dating my husband in college. We were basically still in the womb. But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows; and in fact, we’d both tell you things weren’t rock solid until years later. Until we agreed to go all in. And when we did, we knew where the bodies were buried – the mess, the baggage, who we were as people, all the things already revealed. We lived the life cycle of a friendship before we ever said, we’re doing this for real for real. And because of that, we’re also best friends. Can you imagine how hard it must be for a celebrity to intimately trust someone? Beginning with some history would help.
We also celebrate Kourtney moving on from Scott. There are very few things I draw negative inferences from, but he is one of them. Under the powerful Kardashian Industrial Media Complex, what we didn’t see was probably much worse than what we did. Their choice to keep him in the fold and the darkest of his demons private was likely to preserve his relationship with their children. But in return, she spent years protecting her sometimes-spouse like a fourth child, relegated to throwaway dalliances that could never amount to more.
A mother’s guilt is real. Rooting for Kourtney and Scott fed the narrative that women are expected to settle in the name of preserving a family unit. That fathers deserve to have their fun, then reform their ways and come home refreshed, like they went on sabbatical instead of a reckless, years-long bender. Place multi-million-dollar television contracts on top of these societal pressures. I do believe he wanted her back in earnest, but she is entitled to want out of the arrangement, and we should commend her for her finally doing it.
Above all, though, I enjoy how public their love is. One week, Travis is caressing Kourtney’s butt in a canyon; the next, they’re sailing through the canals of Venice; the next, they’re twin tonguing alongside their punk rock besties at the VMAs. We are used to this type of performative behavior from less famous people. (Remember Speidi? Cringe.) But Kourtney and Travis don’t need the publicity boost. They are sharing their passion in a manner that feels intentional. Like they have a message they want us all to know.
You are allowed to be over 40, feeling sexy, living your life, and loving your partner. You are allowed to be an upgraded version of the person you were when you were younger, before children, or even in a past relationship. Your happiness shouldn’t be scrapbooked; it can be practiced at any age. And if you’ve found it, share it. Because people are always searching for their own second acts in life, and it is possible that your own can inspire theirs.
The little things
I don’t choose when to wear a hat. The hat chooses when it must be worn. Like an internet plug-in to my personality, it waits for its utility and deploys at the right time.
At 18 weeks into a high-risk pregnancy with Ruby, I had to attend a four-day work conference in Nashville. To call it “less than ideal” would be kind. I was in pain, exhausted, and trapped in a convention center the size of five cruise ships that smelled like an indoor pool. But I still had a choice: to allow a miserable trip to happen to me, or to seek out something better. The second night after our sessions ended, I took an Uber downtown, which dropped me off in front of a little hat store. Inside, I made a friend, and from her, bought this hat. For the rest of the trip, I wore it line dancing with strangers, listening to live music over seltzer waters, and finding some of the last delicious meals I could enjoy before having gestational diabetes.
Eventually, I learned my purchase was not local to Nashville at all. To my chagrin, the store is pretty much a hipster franchise. Oh well. Through the hat, I embraced a situation and turned it around. In Nashville or anywhere, it’ll do that for me always.
Also
Michelle Wu shattered more than a glass ceiling on election night - she broke down a whole glass house. She is the first Asian-American woman and mother to be elected mayor of Boston. And at 36 years old (!), she is the youngest to do it in a century. Read more about her in The Boston Globe.