The winter of 2021 plunged many into introspection, and for me, it was a deep dive into musical nostalgia. Amidst a personal storm of pandemic-induced anxieties, I sought refuge in the sounds of my past. Among the relics unearthed were a burned CD from 2006, echoing teenage angst with Taylor Swift’s “I’d Lie,” and VHS footage of a freshman year dance performance set to John Mayer’s 2003 hit, “Clarity.”
This rediscovery of retro tech resonated with my husband, who gifted me a record player and a vinyl of “Evermore.” While not a die-hard “Swiftie” at the time, I recognized the cultural significance of her pandemic albums. Listening to “Evermore,” I was captivated by Swift’s evolved songwriting, prompting a reevaluation of her earlier work that I had previously overlooked.
It was during this period of rediscovery that I revisited “Dear John,” the poignant 2010 breakup anthem from Taylor Swift’s “Speak Now” album. Through raw lyrics and a powerful chorus, Swift recounts a toxic relationship with John Mayer, a much older musician who had collaborated with and dated the then 19-year-old Swift, while he was 32.
Armed with a newfound appreciation for Swift’s narrative artistry, and fueled by the societal reckoning around the treatment of young female celebrities like Britney Spears, I pressed play. The opening guitar chords of “Dear John” instantly transported me back to my own 19-year-old self, who had Mayer’s melancholic tunes on constant rotation. A striking realization hit me: “‘Dear John’ sounds exactly like a John Mayer song,” I thought, noticing the deliberate musical mirroring.
I was struck not only by the sonic parallels between Taylor Swift’s “Dear John” and John Mayer’s discography but also by the young artist’s mature depiction of manipulation by an older man. The chorus poses a direct, rhetorical question to her former lover: “Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with?” Further into the song, Swift poignantly describes navigating his unpredictable nature, “praying the floor won’t fall through again.”
Over time, “Dear John” has ascended in the Taylor Swift song rankings, becoming a celebrated piece in her extensive catalog. Conversely, John Mayer’s reputation has been tarnished by his objectifying, insensitive, and racially charged behavior and remarks towards women, widely reported in the media. Even over a decade after its release, “Dear John” remains a potent encapsulation of Mayer’s problematic persona juxtaposed with Taylor Swift’s lyrical and musical brilliance.
The Conflict Between Teen Pop Adoration and Mayer’s Allure in My Youth
Taylor Swift and John Mayer shared the stage at Z100’s Jingle Ball in 2009, a performance that preceded the release of “Dear John”, a song widely interpreted as being about their relationship.
According to interviews surrounding her “Speak Now” album, Taylor Swift penned “Dear John” around late 2009 or early 2010. This timing is significant as it aligns with when many of us were transitioning from our high school years. My own musical tastes had been, in part, shaped by years of trying to embody the “cool girl” archetype. Sharing my enthusiasm for mainstream female artists like Taylor Swift or Britney Spears often met with disdain or indifference from male peers. This led to a period of self-deprecation, where I started to dismiss the talents of women who mirrored aspects of myself, burying my more “girlish” inclinations in shame.
John Mayer, however, received a pass. His association with figures like Dave Chapelle, his recognized guitar virtuosity, and simply being a male artist, shielded him from the same criticism. His music, in fact, seemed to give voice to my own adolescent feelings of depression and self-loathing, framing them as profound enigmas.
Mayer’s music offered genuine solace, particularly his debut album in 2001, which coincided with the start of my middle school years. “Why Georgia,” his 2001 hit and personal favorite, became the soundtrack to my solitary walks home from school, endlessly playing on my Walkman. “Everybody’s just a stranger but that’s the danger in going my own way,” he sang, resonating with my teenage yearning. Later, after moving to New York City at 18, I even quoted these lyrics on Facebook, feeling they symbolized the newfound freedom and possibilities of adulthood.
But now, fifteen years later, it’s Taylor Swift’s music that provides that same sense of connection and understanding. In her most intimate songs, Swift delves into her formative years, revealing a nuanced self-portrait that mirrors my own journey into adulthood. Her ability to articulate the complexities of growing up and navigating relationships resonates deeply with listeners who have experienced similar transitions.
Rediscovering Taylor Swift: Processing Teenage Memories and Embracing Female Artistry
In a 2012 Rolling Stone cover story, John Mayer labeled “Dear John” as “cheap songwriting” and an “abuse of talent.” He stated, “I’m pretty good at taking accountability now, and I never did anything to deserve that. It was a really lousy thing for her to do.” His criticisms are particularly ironic given his own history of writing songs about famous exes, including one seemingly directed at Swift.
When questioned by Rolling Stone about the lyric, “Don’t you think I was too young to be messed with?” Mayer deflected, stating, “I don’t want to go into that.” His reluctance to address the age disparity and power dynamics inherent in their relationship suggests a failure to fully grasp or acknowledge the implications of dating a teenager. This avoidance undermines his claim of “taking accountability.”
Throughout my late twenties and early thirties, crucial conversations have emerged regarding power imbalances, age gaps, and the pervasive issue of abusive behavior among prominent men, particularly in Hollywood and the music industry. This cultural shift includes a re-examination of how young female celebrities were treated during their vulnerable teenage years or during public scandals, with figures like Britney Spears, Janet Jackson, and Pamela Anderson serving as prominent examples.
Personal growth has been a continuous process of self-reflection, disentangling layers of shame, arrogance, and resentment. I now recognize and regret the misogynistic, anti-teen-girl rhetoric I once echoed to defend John Mayer and dismiss Taylor Swift and her female contemporaries. Unknowingly, I was perpetuating patriarchal viewpoints that normalize relationships where older men date teenagers.
Yet, amidst this realization is a profound sense of empathy for my younger self, who simply sought to enjoy music and find belonging. While John Mayer’s music once offered a glimpse of a brighter future, Taylor Swift’s songs now speak directly to my present and past experiences. Her music acts as a bridge, connecting past vulnerabilities with present understanding.
“Dear John”: A Timeless Classic in Taylor Swift’s Iconic Collection
Taylor Swift’s “Midnights” album, released in 2022, features “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve,” a song seen by many as a spiritual successor to “Dear John,” reflecting on similar themes of lost innocence and past relationships.
Taylor Swift is now 32 – the same age John Mayer was when their relationship occurred. Her recent album, “Midnights (3am edition),” features “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve,” widely considered a sequel to “Dear John.” This new song further explores the regret and lingering unease associated with lost innocence and past traumas.
The emotional climax of “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve” is reached in the bridge, where Swift sings with a raw, almost childlike vulnerability: “Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts / Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first.” This plea is both heartbreaking and liberating. It triggers a flood of personal memories: unwanted attention from older men as a young girl, whispered stories of teenage experiences happening too soon, and moments of forced intimacy. How many more generations of young women will find their own pain reflected in Taylor Swift’s songs? Could such honest songwriting be a catalyst for change, breaking cycles of harmful behavior?
Taylor Swift, even as a teenager, asserted her agency in the best way she could. Now, as a mature artist, she wields her songwriting power to reclaim her narrative and facilitate healing. This act of reclamation is powerful and cathartic, akin to shedding layers of collective shame that have lingered from the past.
In the final, resonant line of “Dear John,” Taylor Swift shifts the onus back to Mayer: “You should’ve known.” Mayer should have known better. He should have recognized she was too young to be manipulated. He should have taken responsibility when the time came. The burden of knowing better was never on us – the teenage girls of the 2000s. That responsibility unequivocally lies with the John Mayers of the world.
