David has the hair of a monied Orthodox newlywed and a body like those which appears in subway ads for weight loss supplements. She is the first daughter of American comedy — a 24-year-old heiress whose first venture into entertainment (a web series she co-created and starred in) was instantly snatched up by Amazon. She is best known for her Instagram, in which she usually appears lounging in a bikini holding food close to her face with a caption that suggests humorously that she has poor social skills.
Sometimes I feel like Cazzie David was created by God to test whether or not I am a good person. Even though my problems with Cazzie David cannot possibly be driven by anything other than internalized misogyny and jealous spite, I reserve the right to feel sexually threatened by her. I thought things could not possibly get worse between me and Cazzie David.
How wrong I was.
In May, Cazzie David and Saturday Night Live comedian Pete Davidson confirmed that their long and public relationship had ended. Shortly after, Davidson began to date Ariana Grande, one of today’s biggest pop-stars, who is noted both for her exceptional talent and for being sensationally attractive. Shortly after, they were engaged.
Suddenly Cazzie David, born into millions and sporting the looks of a Jewish Megan Fox, was the underdog. Cazzie David was the injured party. Cazzie David was more relatable than ever. Cazzie David was the topic of loving articles featuring her drinking a huge glass of red wine.
Yet I refuse to bend.
Pete Davidson may have broken up with Cazzie David, covered his arm-tattoo of her face with a rendering of a forest, and proposed to a fetus-sized pop sensation, but I still refuse to feel for Cazzie David. Ultimately, her face is still on Pete Davidson’s arm (his leg has a tattoo of Hilary Clinton’s face.)
If it’s true that the best revenge is living well, Cazzie David is getting the ultimate revenge.
When the news of her ex’s new relationship broke, Cazzie was in Africa, lounging in Jeeps as wild baby animals meandered nearby.
Then she headed to wine country, presumably to drown her sorrows in a relatable and aesthetic manner.
Then she visited DC for her sister’s college graduation, followed by biking in the glorious semi-nude through pastoral landscapes.
Finally, she sunned herself on the beach while eating candy and went cliff diving.
Some mornings I wake up and think — I won’t be treated like this anymore by Cazzie David! But I have no choice. This is Cazzie David’s world and I am just living in it. I accept, grudgingly, her existence.
May her hair be thick, her comedy be self-deprecating, and her heart be healed. And may her vacations be everlasting. Amen.
Jenny Singer is the deputy lifestyle editor for the Forward. You can reach her at Singer@forward.com or on Twitter @jeanvaljenny