On Sunday night, podcaster and model Emily Ratajkowski was spotted at the Knicks game with Staten Island’s pride and joy, Pete Davidson. The two have been dating — or have they? — for the past two weeks. Any loyal tabloid reader knows that a courtside appearance at a basketball game is basically like second base for celebs who are trying to convince the public they are together.
Despite the hugs and the b-ball game appearance (or as TMZ calls it, “surfacing” — as if either of these two ever goes away), our experts at Gawker have ruled this relationship to be FAKE AS HELL and BORING TO BOOT. It makes me borderline nostalgic for when EmRata was allegedly dating Brad Pitt, even though not really.
Part of the reason why this fake relationship garners such fake ire is that it lacks creativity or surprise. All the best romances are built on the unexpected, a jilt to the system that upends everything we once knew all for the act of love — think of Romeo and Juliet, or Kaley Cuoco and her random fiancé. This is why I strongly encourage EmRata to stop fucking around with famous guys and random DJs and put her money where her mouth is.
It’s time for Emily Ratajkowski to date an adjunct professor.
Even the most shallow purveyor of EmRata’s world knows that the model and actress and podcaster cares a lot about socialist causes, and that she tracks the ways in which our bodies — including hers — are weaponized against us. She reads books, she likes art. She’s always, like, nodding along with a TikTok of a college student explaining some philosophy. She campaigned for Bernie Sanders way back when! If there’s any American plight she’s predisposed to be sympathetic to, it’s that of the poor adjunct professor.
Consider: an adjunct professor can look like anything. They can be anywhere from 23 to 100 years old. They are often hot, partially because they are malnourished and partially because they still mourn the loss of RateMyProfessor.com’s chili pepper. Adjuncts are almost always nearly unionized, if not fully unionized, if not threatening to strike, if not just striking. Oh, you think an adjunct professor is too busy teaching and grading to date a model? If I know anything about adjuncts — having been one myself — it’s that we have all the time in the world to do anything but teach and grade. I loved canceling class, and I just know that whatever adjunct EmRata would find would do the same.
Just think: paparazzi photos of EmRata picking up her man outside of Columbia, or maybe Stanford. Adjuncts are sort of sexy and mysterious because it’s never clear when they’re going to get tenured, let alone if the health benefits that possibility would provide would make their lives easier or worth living. She would look so cute in her North Face showing up at a picket line, shouting something confrontational before flying off to Ibiza or whatever.
Emily Ratajkowski wants to impart change on the world, but she’ll never do it through too-thin bathing suits made for people with only her exact body type, or through a podcast where she and Julia Fox recount the time they had wine together. She needs to donate to the fund of part-time university employees and show up at a Columbia strike. It’s the only thing that will get her clout, and it’s the only thing that will put at least one balanced meal from Estela or Lilia into the stomach of whatever Comp Lit adjunct she plucks out of the Raya pool. Then Pete Davidson can finally move on to date Jennifer Coolidge.