Fine, I Admit It—I, Too, Would Like an Alligator Swamp Husband

In recent months, as both my mental and financial states have continued to deteriorate, I have become possessed by vivid fantasies of faking my own death and starting a new life in the woods. As of this morning, however, those dreams of going increasingly mad in the Berkshires have been replaced by the urge to abandon all my earthly responsibilities for a romantic swamp retreat.

This, as you might imagine, comes in response to news of Lana Del Rey’s characteristically unhinged nuptials to an alligator swamp tour guide she began dating earlier this year. And just as Taylor Swift made Golden Retriever Boyfriends the it-girl accessory of 2023, Lana has now ushered in a new genre of dream man: the Alligator Swamp Husband. And yes, I obviously need one.

Like many zillennial women who were exposed to Born to Die in their formative years, my brain chemistry has been forever altered by fantasies (and later, lived realities) of doomed love affairs with wealthy older men. Interestingly, the bulk of Lana’s actual, public-facing dating history has seemed to involve a string of musicians and, on one notable occasion, a cop. But while I can’t date a flatfoot because I’m not a fucking narc, nor a musician because I’d be living in constant fear that he would try to serenade me and I would feel awkward about it/not know what to do with my arms, I think an Alligator Swamp Husband is something I could get on board with.

Now, as someone whose primary hobbies include drinking dirty martinis in hotel lobby bars with other people’s dads, I can see how the Louisiana bayou may not seem like my most natural habitat. But personally, I envision my swamp self as more of a font change than a rebrand.

Based on what I’ve gathered from Southern Gothic literature, the swamps of the south are a great place for behaving in a strange and off-putting manner, becoming a feared town recluse with a harrowing secret, and/or being driven mad by romantic rejection—all of which is pretty on-brand for me. So while my Alligator Swamp Husband is busy swamping, I’ll stay home and amuse myself by tearing around in my fucking nightgown, 24/7 Sylvia Plath. I think I could also have some fun gazing wistfully into the distance and wondering when my husband will return from the swamp, and/or hoping he won’t return from the swamp early because I’m having an ill-fated love affair and he’d kill us both if he found out! Which, frankly, all sounds preferable to re-downloading Tinder right now.

Not to mention, I hear the Alligator Swamp Husband industry is quite lucrative—at least according to an anonymous Lana source who assured the Daily Mail that the swamp groom is not a golddigger. As you may have heard, I am broke and insane, so sinking my claws into some of that swamp money could be a smart financial move on my part. (Follow me for more free finance tips.)

All of which is to say that if any eligible Alligator Swamp Bachelors want to make me their Alligator Swamp Bride, applications are now open. (And yes, if all the good swamp men are already taken due to Lana’s influence, I will settle for an Alligator Swamp Sugar Daddy.)

Kayla KibbeAssociate Sex & Relationships Editor

Kayla Kibbe (she/her) is the Associate Sex and Relationships Editor at Cosmopolitan US, where she covers all things sex, love, dating and relationships. She lives in Astoria, Queens and probably won’t stop talking about how great it is if you bring it up. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram.