Being that no one believes in the concept of “straight” in the post-twentieth century apocalypse we’ve chosen to ignore is happening, there can be no denying that it’s harder than it has ever been for that particular sect called the heterosexual woman pushing only closer to the expiration date called “sexually desirable no more.” So you know it’s particularly dire when even Ariana Grande, still well within the parameters of being high on the lust-o-meter, has gone through enough failed relationships at this juncture (a juncture that still finds her at a mere twenty-five) to write a song about them, and the conclusion that it’s all guided her toward: “I’d rather be alone than unhappy,” like Whitney preached but did not practice. In addition to, as many would prefer to glean from the song: just because something didn’t work out with someone you were in love with doesn’t mean the experience overall wasn’t of value, however brief or lengthy the rapport might have been.
Perhaps wanting to add more songs to her arsenal quickly so as to dissipate some of the embarrassment of releasing a song called “pete davidson,” Grande has helped to cleanse her romantic experiences (especially the most recent one) with a new single called, “thank u, next”–already the first and only number one this year to reach the top spot on the U.S. Apple Music Chart. Not mincing words, Grande begins laying into four of her most significant exes in the public eye: Big Sean, Ricky Alvarez (he’s a backup dancer, because it’s every pop singer’s rite of passage to go through that phase), Pete Davidson and, of course, Mac Miller (who she saves for last and refers to as Malcolm, telling of her affection for him above all others indeed–because everyfuckingbody has to have that one love that stood out for its impact on their heart and mind more than any of the others). Reflecting on how each one taught her something of value, whether love, patience or pain, Grande then segues into discussing how she can do even better in promoting her growth with the newest person she’s moved onto: herself. Even better, she can “spend more time with [her] friends”–you know, the ones she ditched while she was getting all that dick that turned out to be yet another false investment of time in pleasure that was too ephemeral to be deemed worth it.
As she phrases this new love she’s found in turning to the only person one can trust (what Beyonce calls, me, myself and I), “Plus, I met someone else/We havin’ better discussions/I know they say I move on too fast/But this one gon’ last ’cause her name is Ari and I’m so good with that.” Realizing that this seemingly endless search for someone to “give her life meaning” is nothing but yet another false chase toward self-actualization, Grande at last apprehends that there can be no “self-actualization” without “self.” Grande also teases and goads in a way that even Taylor Swift (the number one offender for writing about her exes) has never dared, remarking, “God forbid something happens/Least this song is a smash.” In short, at least she has the ability to profit from her pain, unlike most women workin’ the nine to five and with no extra cash to take a seminar on “how to grow from love lost.”
Some might even say that this is all merely a celebration of the “hoe is life” mantra, that getting upset over the so-called loss of any one person isn’t worth it at a time when, theoretically, there is nothing but possibility open to each human being, particularly women, once forced to be slaves called housewives, and, in exchange for “not working,” turning a blind eye whenever their husbands cheated. Or maybe it’s all just an homage to the fucked up European tendency to not hold a rightful grudge against an ex who wasted your time and treated you as disposably as a pocket pussy. So yeah, “I choose me,” every straight woman is beginning to declare with less and less shame, “thank u, next” being yet another push to never apologize for the only relationship that ever seems to last: the one you have with yourself.
