Recently, the internet lost its collective shit when Saturday Night Live star Pete Davidson was photographed with his tongue down Kate Beckinsale’s throat at a hockey game. Late last year, the SNL star famously dated Ariana Grande, and ever since then, all of us have pretty much been obsessed with his personal life—and dating a famous actress twice his age only aggravated that. On SNL last weekend, the comedian criticized the public’s “crazed fascination” with his new relationship, and pointed to a double standard with older men dating younger women.
"Apparently people have a crazy fascination with our age difference," the star told "Weekend Update" host Colin Jost. "But it doesn't really bother us. But then again, I'm new to this. So if you have questions about a relationship with a big age difference, just ask Leonardo DiCaprio, Jason Statham, Michael Douglas, Richard Gere, Jeff Goldblum, Scott Disick, Bruce Willis, Harrison Ford, Alec Baldwin, Sean Penn, whoever the president of France is, Mel Gibson, Mick Jagger..."
The list drags on.
Davidson makes a good point. But I’m going to ignore it because I’m a jealous monster and very childish. You see, I’m gay, which means two things: One, I hold grudges. Two, I don’t care about some weird dude’s dating life. But here’s what I do care about, a lot: international pop stars and actresses over 40. Davidson is monopolizing a group of women that I would like to be dating (mainly, pop stars and actresses over 40). He’s infringing on my territory—of which I’ve no claim because I’ve never dated a famous actress or pop star. But I’d like to—I’d really, really like to.
So, I’ve opted to hate Davidson, to make him my mortal enemy, to stare into a swirling, stormy night sky and brood about revenge, mumbling sinister curses into the wind and placing an omen on my family talisman. From this day forth, let it be heard: Davidson is my nemesis.
First, he came for Grande, who America has widely adopted as its of-the-moment Alpha Pop Star. Davidson and Grande sparked something nostalgic and borderline menacing in us; a fixation on celebrity dating that we hadn’t much seen since the 90s and early aughts. Back in the day, being a celebrity was exciting, because celebrities were special, and fame wasn’t accessible to every 14-year old white boy with rich parents and bangs.
We fawned over “power couples,” or, famouses (i.e. famous spouses) who dated each other, like Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake, Justin Timberlake and Cameron Diaz, Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher, Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston—and so on and so forth. We loved watching two people who were on top of the world top each other. We lusted over their meet-cutes and we sobbed when they shattered. Davidson and Grande gave us that exciting feeling of becoming emotionally attached to a whirlwind media story. But then, when Ariana was officially America’s sweetheart, the subject of every conversation and schoolgirl crush, Davidson hurt our Alpha Pop Star’s feelings. That’s when I first soured on Davidson.
Then it got personal. Davidson, 25, was photographed holding hands with Beckinsale, 45, and I was riled. I realized that Davidson was coming for me and that his dating track record wasn’t just impressive, but a personal attack on me and my livelihood—a direct @, if you will.
That’s when I decided I have to hate this person who I’ve never met and strike up a blood feud that I’ll pass on through future generations. Every offspring of my bloodline will feel an overwhelming sense of competitiveness with the Davidson lineage. We’ll be like the Lannisters and the Targaryens, or the Lannisters and the Starks, or the Lannisters and whoever the fuck. We will hate each other for so long and with so little reason, that in a future generation, a Gutowitz and a Davidson will fall hopelessly in love and be tasked with the impossible mission of mending the long-standing rivalry. They will have to remind both families why their similarities are what should bond them—not tear them apart. But that’s in like 400 years, and I’m talking about now.
Davidson and I are just too similar. We’re both in our twenties. We’ve both made a career out of being funny. Sure, he’s a “famous comedian” on a “television show,” but I’m a self-described “humorist” with almost 50,000 Twitter followers. We both have mental health issues, and we’re both very open about them—Davidson has written about his struggles with Borderline Personality Disorder on social media. I write a bi-monthly column about my struggles with generalized anxiety. We both love Ariana Grande—or at least one of us still does. We both love middle-aged famous actresses. I’m out here on Twitter every day talking about how badly I want women like Rachel Weisz and Cate Blanchett to launch me into the sun.
Then there’s our proclivity toward romantic obsession. Davidson got a tattoo of Grande almost immediately after they started dating. I haven’t gotten any physical tats, but spiritually, sure: If a girl even responds to my text, I feel sired to her for life, and I’m ready and willing to be savagely disposed of by her, only to co-opt the damage she’s done as a cornerstone of my future personality.
I guess what I’m saying is, every time I look at Davidson, I think, this guy? This decent-looking toxic loud mouth? Why not this decent-looking toxic loud mouth (me)? What does Davidson have that I don’t? A different gender, sure, but in what world would a woman actually date a man in 2019? In this economy?? He thinks he’s special because he’s been in a movie with Zoey Deutch? Who hasn’t?! Grow up.
Pete Davidson is my nemesis. He’s crossed the line one too many times. He’s shamelessly stolen my brand, and I’m afraid he must be stopped. So, Davidson, to you I say: Meet me in the lobby of 30 Rock for a rumble, you coward. And heed this warning: Come for Brie Larson and the entire wrath of Lesbian Twitter will fall crashing down on you, and we will banish you to an eternity of being canceled. This town ain’t big enough for the both of us. There can only be one obsessive, off-kilter funny person dating pop stars and actresses twice their age, and it’s going to be ME.