When three college males pack up the car on a trek to see a concert in Cleveland, you expect it to be a band with a robust, rocking and blaring sound. Something like AC/DC or Guns ní Roses. And even if itís not completely macho, it should be something classic, like Bruce Springsteen or U2. My friends and I, however, were going to see someone that wasnít remotely manly, but we did have a date with arguably the most gorgeous 19 year-old on the planet ñ Taylor Swift.

To say that I have a love obsession with Taylor Swift is quite an understatement. Not only is the country music star simply drop-dead gorgeous, but her music is fantastic. Her musicís consistently playing on the speakers in my room, on my iPod on the way to class ó I even listen to Taylor when Iím working out. Last year my roommate nearly insisted that I had to move out if I played Taylor Swift any longer.

Luckily for me, I am not the only male on this campus whose crush extends to the singerís guitar strings as well. Thus, when two of my friends and I found out that she was playing on Oct. 3 at the Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland, we snatched up tickets faster than it takes a car full of college students to devour the Taco Bell value menu on Saturday night at 3 a.m.

I had never been more excited for a concert in my life. It was funny, though. When we informed all our female friends that we were going to see Taylor in concert, they immediately asked us why we hadnít invited them. When we told all our male friends that we were going to see the concert, they looked at us with such disgust it was as if we had told them we were going to see Sesame Street Live.

In the weeks before the concert, my friends and I were quite excited. Yet a number of questions ran through our heads. The first of which was whether theyíd even serve beer at this concert. This at first seemed like a no-brainer. Every concert sells beer. Then again, this was a concert in which the target demographic ó 14 year-old girls ó wasnít even old enough to drive, let alone drink.

Since it was a country music concert, my friends and I decided that the three of us had to wear cowboy hats. On the day of the concert, before we left for Cleveland, we took a picture in front my friendís Ford pick-up truck in our cowboy hats and plaid shirts. Had we not been going to see a concert where high school girls made up the main demographic, it would have been the perfect picture in preparation for a NASCAR race ó or at least an NRA rally.

Once we got there, the photo shoots continued. When we saw Taylorís bus parked in the parking lot in front of the arena, we knew that we had to get a picture in front of it. Luckily, the father of two 8-year-old girls graciously volunteered to take our picture.

Once we got inside the arena, our suspicions were confirmed. There were lots of people dressed in cowboy hats, but hardly any of them were males, let alone college-aged. As I stood in line to buy a Taylor T-shirt for my friend who had specifically requested one, I looked up and down the line. I was the only male in a line with 40 people. When I requested a blue shirt in size small, I half-expected the woman behind the counter to respond, ìReally?”

Predictably, once we reached our seats, there was a gaggle of teenage girls on either side. Whatever.

The concert was fantastic, yet I had never seen a singer change outfits so many times. While the concert lasted two and a half hours, we joked that Taylor spent half of it in the dressing room. Simply put, though, the concert lived up to our high expectations. Itís rare to go to a concert and enjoy every single song the artist plays, but it happened that night.

Subsequently, our friends still ribbed us about being three college dudes at a concert where many of those in the audience were just a year removed from their Bar-Mitzvah. Surely, it was not the manliest concert any of us will ever attend. However, I thought about the kind of man that shows up at a Taylor Swift concert with two other dudes in a pickup truck. I was convinced it was one that was fearless.

Andrew Vogel is a CoEditor in Chief for the Voice. He can be reached for further comment at AVogel10@wooster.edu