Despite the ardency with which Ariana Grande announced of her decision to change the name of the song “Pete” on Sweetener to the even more specific “Pete Davidson,” it seemed that no amount of declarative statements could have saved this doomed romance from running its short course. It was almost as though she wanted to prove the public right in making such a possessive claim so early on in the relationship, if what she had with Davidson can truly be called that when it was, in fact, a five-month rebound posing as an engagement.
When news of Grande’s decision to amend the title broke amid then recent tattoo homages to one another, a fan asked why she chose to change it. Never one to shy away from interaction with the public on Twitter, Grande responded, “I like the way it looks. I love his name and I love him. Music lasts forever. It’ll outlive any tattoo, any memory, any anything, even myself so I want my love for him and how I feel to be a part of that.” Well damn, one is pretty sure this isn’t the case anymore, so much as salt added into an already gaping wound compounded by the death of her ex and the general nitpicking nature of her audience (the girl can’t even release an adorable music video starring her pet pig without condemnation).
Ah, but then there is other plot twist in the bizarre cycle of the relationship: Lana Del Rey singing along to, of all the choices on Sweetener, “Pete Davidson” on her Instagram story back in late September. Was this one of those “bootleg witchcraft” moments (as Azealia Banks would deem it) on Del Rey’s part? Was she somehow doing a chant to make the breakup happen sooner rather than later? Personally, this vague conspiracy theorist would like to think so. But alas, this was a turn of events so predictable that no witchery was needed to propel it along.
That Davidson quickly started showing his true colors (as all men are wont to do once they’ve miraculously persuaded you to let your guard down) around the June point in time (the two had announced their engagement in late May) still couldn’t stop Grande from going down the rabbit hole. It’s the haze of being involved in something “new,” inevitably made old by routine after increasingly short periods of time in an age called: No Commitment to Commitment.
Grande’s whimsical choice to write a song (tacking it on toward the end of the album’s creation, of course) making such ephemeral assertions as, “I know you’re my soul mate and all that,” in addition to the false promise, “Got me happy, happy/Won’t get no crying from me, yeah/Gonna be happy, happy” is, in point of fact, a strong testament to how “too much” in the moment millennials are, never thinking carefully enough of the ramifications that their present actions will bring in the future–especially a future in which every minute detail will remain documented in some digital format.
Even if Grande insists at some point (when she’s ready to come out of hiding from the media plague) that she has no regrets about naming the song in honor of a basic white man, she will likely hold fast to some semblance of her original statement on the matter, “He’s my fiancé. This is my album. I’m an honest and emotional artist and human being and if my openness in my work isn’t for you, that’s OK; I won’t be offended. Still wishing y’all all the love in the world.” For clinging to denial (especially that part about wishing assholes all the love in the world) is what we all do when we’re embarrassed of our actions, particularly one that everyone forewarned us would blow up in our face.
