Kim Kardashian, Pete Davidson

Victoria Richards, The Independent

Who amongst us hasn’t ached for a grand gesture of romance; a “throw down your plush velvet cloak over a puddle, write a song about me, paint a portrait of my face and hide it in your attic” symbol of just how besotted the object of your affections is? Just me?

It can’t be — though I am sure that many a coiffed eyebrow will have been raised over Pete Davidson’s apparent decision to mark his love for Kim Kardashian (one which also has the satisfyingly smug side-effect of aggravating Kanye West) by having her first name branded into his chest; to show their relationship off to the world in eye-watering, skin-raising, permanently-scarred detail.

Davidson’s no stranger to a tat or two – or, indeed, a bit of light trolling: the three short letters of Kim’s first name were spotted in leaked photos he reportedly sent of himself to West, during a testy exchange relating to the rapper’s outbursts against the couple.

Kardashian confirmed that it wasn’t, in fact, a conventional tattoo. “It’s actually a branding,” she said during a recent appearance on The Ellen DeGeneres Show. “Because he wanted to do something that was really different.”

When DeGeneres asked if an “iron thing” went on to Davidson’s body to “brand KIM,” she said “yes”. She also revealed that it wasn’t the first permanent nod to their relationship — Davidson also bears ink that says: “my girl is a lawyer,” as she passed her Bar exam last December. She also openly swooned about their relationship, saying: “I went for it and I took my time. I found it and it feels so good. I want to hold on to that forever.”

Since Kim is swooning, I might as well admit it — I’m swooning, too. It’s just all a bit gorgeously goth, isn’t it?

And maybe that’s what precisely appeals to me: it reminds me of Angelina Jolie and Billy-Bob Thornton, who famously wore vials of each other’s blood around their necks…

Tattoo tributes, though, I’ll take. I have friends who have done similar — one had his (then) new girlfriend’s name tattooed on his right pec just weeks after they started dating.

A bit of a playboy at the time, he wanted to prove he was serious; that she was different — so chose the extravagant, impulsive act as a gesture of amour.

It could have backfired, but didn’t — they’ve now been together 13 years. Another couple I know went on a date that started out as a “dare”: they promised to choose the wording for a tattoo for each other, without telling each other in advance. Years later, they still have the ink — and two beautiful children.

Not everyone will be a fan of tattoos (though they have a rich and complex history, as explained here, which stretches far beyond lazy quips about “criminals” and “sailors”), but I am — and I’m sorry, but I think what Davidson has done is the epitome of romance.

It’s romantic precisely because it’s so reckless, so foolhardy — of course you shouldn’t permanently pay tribute to what could end up being just a fleeting relationship; a gesture you could ultimately regret and (potentially) end up wanting removed – or sheepishly need to have someone else’s name inked over the first.

But love has never been about “shoulds” or “shouldn’ts”, has it? It is all the more dizzying for it, because what it represents is naive, terrible, delicious hope. When we fall in love, we fancy ourselves more in love than anyone else at any time of human existence. Our love is “different’”, we say, “no one has ever felt like this before!” And so, we try to carve it out and put some kind of physical memento on this feeling, perhaps because we worry we’ll — eventually — forget.