#inferno is the reverse of cosmos

[colourmestoked04]

Do my hands hurt? Yes.

Was it worth it? Totally!

Just creating my own little merch for fanfics because I can. 🧍🏼‍♀️😂

Story Authours:

My Cosmos Is Yours (Cosmos) : @technicallywrite

The Pieces That Get Sacrificed (Inferno) : @daystarsearcher

[hydralisk98]

Utalics' LibreVast "DataProcessingSystem"

"Fantasy" computer system inspired by the SEGA DreamCast, StarDragonModels' Cosmos, the Sanyo 3DO TRY, the OUYA, the Famicube and the Nintendo 64DD.

Specifications

48-bit RISC-V-like Juniper6 SDPm (symbolic data processor module) x2-x6

Using 12-bit words as most fundamental computer unit (the smallest four binary digits )

Twelve generic 12-bit registers ( A,B,C,D,E,F,U,V,W,X,Y,Z; )

Four special-use registers (48-bit program counter, 24-bit storage accumulator, links 4-bit register & 20-bit scientific notation coefficient )

Includes a deque data structure component that can store up to ~64 12-bit elements

A RISC-like ISA { Load value to register, Load from register to register, Load from memory to register, Store register value in memory, Compare register to register, Compare register with value, Branch if equal, Branch if less, Branch if more, Branch unconditionally, Add value to register, Add register to register, Subtract value from register, Substract register from register, Bitwise Shift right, Bitwise Shift left, Bitwise Rotate left, Bitwise Rotate right, deque INJECT, deque PUSH, deque POP, deque EJECT, deque PEEK, deque DROP, deque DUPLICATE, deque SWAP, deque OVER, deque ROTATE CLOCKWISE, deque ROTATE COUNTERCLOCKWISE, deque ROLL, deque BACKPEEK, deque REVERSE ROLL, deque REVERSE DUPLICATE, deque BACKSWAP, deque UNDER, deque BACK ROTATE CLOCKWISE, deque BACK ROTATE COUNTERCLOCKWISE, deque REVERSE DROP, deque PAD, deque REVERSE PAD;), NOT, NOR, NAND, AND, OR, XOR, Carry, ?, ?, ?, ?, ?, ?, Halt, Noop; }

64-bit wide instructions { 8-bit opcode, (6-8 extension?) 4-bit register, 48-bit data }

Expanded UTF-8 encoding

480x288p RGBA 12-bit/channel screen resolution at 60 FPS

144MW Unified Memory

48MW Video RAM for 48-bit programmable opacity display

48MW Audio RAM for 8D audio

4MW SRAM for libre bootloader & machine-level utilities

48GW Storage (using the last 16GW as swap)

DirectMemoryAccess feature

32-bit stereo sound

SAM= Symbolic Analog Monitor, secular overseer system daemon that handles much software time-sharing functions in a transparent and empowering manner

MAM= Magickal Agent Mentor, group of utilities for spiritual esoteric and user guidance

WAX= Wirebox Analog eXecutive, low-power analog processor for timeless processing

ZeraDPS (ZealOS-like operating system)

VeneraDIS (Linux-like desktop environment / window manager)

Sasha (Fish-like programmable shell)

Nucleus496 (Microkernel with Linux-like reliability)

Brainstorm for Angora

Programmable Autonomous Organizations (eq. to DAOs)

Mesa (multimedia and hypermedia utilities)

Macroware Veina (rich media editor with cell editing & multi-user wiki editing support, between LibreOffice and NVIM)

4Kard (cardfile / hypercard bulletin board and session time-sharing server system)

Fidel (high-level programming language quite similar to the likes of F#)

Matra (OpenXanadu equivalent as global information system / public-access wiki)

Prospero (multi-player game series by Vixen softworks aka Valve)

Solarmonk (single-player game series by Magnata softworks aka Bethesda)

Milix 3D modelling libre software similar to Blender and AutoCAD

INMOS (Assyrian/Morocco own competitor to ITS & CLADO, from '68)

CLADO (first popular operating system in Angora, developed in '59)

ITS (competitor to CLADO, developed in '63)

Perseus (successor / half-merger between most operating systems, timestamped in 1970)

COS-5 (COS-310 DIBOL environment wth Tmux windowing, TAKO Emacs text editor & Bish shell)

SASS (early Windows equivalent from EBM and Macroware, not very popular)

Van (Win98/ME/ArcaOS-like, still not very popular)

Synod (Ring-0 Microsoft Bob equivalence with very cute graphics and successful with the youth)

Nomad (Uxn / Plan9 / Inferno)

Tiger (C-like programming language, similar to Nim, Lobster, Python and Lua)

Chateau (OpenIndiana / Haiku / PhantomOS / macOS)

Arbav subsystem { affirmation-based emulation, voice-operated system and analog GAI modular section }

Symbolic Algebra system { Fractions, soviet balanced ternary operations, simplifier, garbage collection, arbitrary precision arithmetic, mathematical algorithms & special functions, polynomials, artificial neural network emulation alternative, mathematical constants, optimizations, linear & non-linear equations, integral transformations, series operations, matrix operations, statistical computation, plotting graphs, charts/diagrams?, differential equations, signal processing, sound synthesis, SIN/COS/TAN, constraint logic programming, API library of addon functions; }

FastMath Co-Operative Processing Unit { Multiply, Division, Floating Point Arithmetics, Random Number Generator, POSIX-compliance, optimized code generation, string manipulations, base converters, bitwise logic operators?, square roots, exponents, logarithmic, trigonometrics; }

BASIC + DIBOL

PacoLisp (tiny & versatile low-level) & MiraLisp (much infrastructure & documentation)

HaxelN (virtual memory editor)

Hixi (powerful scripting spreadsheet editor, not by Macroware)

Nao (open media document specification like DolDOC)

Maskoch, disk / partition / physical media editor

Zira I/O, bus, drivers and card expansions

PETSCII-like graphical primitives set

Athena (JVM eq.)

Argdown (extended LaTex / Markdown specification)

Witness (Swift-like)

Mao (visual programming language between Fortran, Turtle graphics and AGAT Robic)

Ruin (very advanced debugger & cryptoanalysis utility suite)

Monada (a famous code poem written in the seventies, similar to a benchmarking "Hello, World!" program for synthetics)

SMall-Talk (professional programming language for databases and parallelist mainframe operations)

Adwa (Multilingual symbolic programming system layer similar to IPL)

'Maniac' operating system (MUSIC/SP eq.)

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[versatilepoetry]

Everlasting Beats

Sinking countless kilometers beneath the rock bottom of my boots; as I witnessed the insurmountably gigantic dinosaur making a final countdown for my bones, Triumphantly bouncing towards a land higher than the summit of paradise; as I achieved the most unprecedented ambition of my life, Freezing ruthlessly to worse than a cold stone; as I heard the overwhelmingly gloomy news; about the ghastly accident of my beloved, Thunderously leaping out of my ardent chest; as I encountered the most fantastically fabulous of my dreams; serendipitously by my side, Escalating like a tumultuously rebellious inferno; when someone rubbed salt on my nascently raw wounds; in the worst of my times, Philandering through the tunnels of insatiably tingling desire; as I romanced with the mate of my dreams; as streaks of electric lightening blazed ferociously in the cosmos, Paralyzing to a frigidly dead bone; as I witnessed gargantuan flocks of unruly mob; torch thousands of innocent alive, Melting like a philanthropically benevolent candle; when the impeccable child caught my hand; calling me father with profound newness lingering in the whites of his eye, Wavering in profuse uncertainty; as I had to choose from amongst my sacrosanct mother and enchanting wife; both of whom I loved incomprehensibly; and alike, Shivering more painstakingly than boundless avalanches of condensed ice; as I viewed my benign fellow mates; being lambasted traumatically from all sides, Slithering in ecstatic frenzy in umpteenth directions; as I immaculately unveiled each ingenious artistry of my bountiful brain, Compassionately fortifying itself like an impregnable fortress; when I unflinchingly marched towards the path of irrefutable truth; with the palms of my fellow comrades; invincibly entwined in mine, Shrinking to fathomless times of its original size; as I heard my name in God's list of those about to die; when I knew that this was the last time; of seeing my cherished ones alive, Glistening to a shade more flamboyant than the rising Sun; as I made my parents proud of my conquests; proved it to the entire world outside; that I was equal to each droplet of my divinely mothers milk, Dancing in remorseful solitude; as I knew I had committed the most heinous act of my life; as I knew that it was disparagingly hopeless; to reverse my quota of inadvertently performed misdeeds, Forcefully fulminating to be instantaneously released; as I was imprisoned in the land of traitors; in the corridors of those who sinfully condemned God and priceless humanity, Dying inconspicuously in its rudimentary roots; as I saw the magnanimous entity who gave me birth; being lowered down in her ghastly tomb, And living an infinite lives in a single life; an infinite instants of happiness in a single moment; when it immortally bonded with the ultimate love of its fervently adventurous existence, Was my passionately throbbing heart; unequivocally ensuring that I survived till my last breath as the richest man alive; a richness not able to be manipulated or purchased by any spurious wealth; a richness of its sacredly everlasting beats.

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

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