#it was supposed to be a short shitpost but i got invested in it

[doc-art]

This has been a while coming, but I wanted to thank you for introducing me to Assignment Risk. I saw your name on the kudos list for my story, 'In The Wings', and got hyped. Felt like things came full circle, or something.

You're welcome!! I read some of it (like, 3 or 4 chapters in right now?), I really need to get back to it! I enjoyed what I read tho!

Been busy reading a bunch of other stories, along with a lotta art stuff (plus my own lil story based off AR) thats been taking my time.

been doodling bits and pieces as I've been writing it, hoping to have the whole thing done relatively soonish

[spookyold-saintjm]

Snow Storm

*throws handkerchief across the room* fucking HELL I miss Eric so much because it’s around that time of year when we first met him and I want to know if he’s okay. Anyways here’s a little holiday-themed fluffy something I wrote based on a shitpost brain dump I had a few days ago. This one’s dedicated to @aheistwithyaboi

Eric Derekson x reader

Warnings: None other than Eric being too good for this world (fluff)

Word Count: 1,875

--

“Uh…oh, no.” 

You were in your kitchen, finishing putting away the dishes you’d used from dinner with your boyfriend. He had stepped away into your living room to check the time on his phone when you heard him utter an exclamation of concern. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, stepping into the room as you finished drying off the last of the dinner plates. 

Eric’s back was to you as he looked out the window that faced the street outside your third floor apartment. 

“I-I opened the blinds to look at the snow…” he started, his voice getting quieter as you neared him, “and, well…” 

“Oh, wow.” You were staring out at the scene that had Eric so worried.  

The snow that had been falling slowly and steadily throughout the day had transformed into a full-blown snowstorm, so much so that it was difficult to see out the window at all. The sidewalks and road were buried, and the trees and rooftops of the buildings across the street were covered in a thick blanket of white.  

“It wasn’t supposed to get this bad, was it?” Eric asked, quickly pulling up the weather app on his phone and scanning the info on the screen. You peeked over his shoulder on your tip-toes to follow along, surprised to find that the forecast called for the snow to not let up for a good portion of the night. 

“It must have changed when we started making dinner,” you offered, thinking back to how much more calm the skies were when Eric had arrived just a few hours before.  

“Yeah…” he replied slowly, sheepishly turning to face you. You could sense him getting anxious—the stiffening in his posture and his hands suddenly shoving into his black pants pockets a dead giveaway. 

“I’m not letting you try to get home in this weather,” you assured him. “You can just stay here for the night.” 

His eyes nearly popped out of his head, and you couldn’t help but grin at his stunned reaction. “R-really? Are you sure? It’s only a few blocks… 

You leaned in to lightly kiss his cheek, unable to contain the giggle that had built in your chest. “You’re ridiculous. Of course it’s okay. We can watch one of those movies we were talking about last week!" 

He let out a light sigh, nodding at you with a small smile and a tint of pink in his cheeks. “O-okay…that sounds nice.” 

Shortly after the two of you were on your couch, sharing a heavy plush blanket Eric had gifted you for your birthday. The glow of candles throughout the room took the place of any of the other lights in the apartment, just in case the power went out in the midst of the storm coming down outside. The chocolate chip cookies you’d put in the oven to bake after dinner were now ready and sitting on the coffee table across from you, and you’d both been happily enjoying them as you watched an old Christmas cartoon that Eric had never seen before. 

You were much more interested in Eric’s reactions to the movie than you were in watching the movie itself; he was fully invested in the animated characters that danced along the screen. Your heart had never felt warmer at the sight of his eyes attached to the screen with his knees tucked into his chest underneath the blanket. He turned to you with a wide grin when the movie was over. 

“That was GREAT!” he exclaimed as you took a cookie from the plate, then offered him the last one. He gladly took it as you settled back onto the couch. 

“I can’t believe you’d never seen it before, it’s still one of my favorites,” you said, leaning in slightly more towards him. 

“Yeah, well, my dad never really let us watch that stuff…” he replied between bites. A small shrug lifted from his shoulders and he didn’t quite meet your eyes when he added, “But I’m...I’m glad I got to watch it with you.”  

You softly rested your head on his shoulder with a smile. “Me, too.”  

You both finished your cookies, and the huge yawn that escaped from you shortly after was all the signal you needed to know that it was time to get ready for bed. 

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” you told Eric, before walking into the bathroom down the hallway, after grabbing a comfy sweater and pair of shorts from your bedroom right across the hall. You washed your face and changed into the new, more comfortable clothes, then strolled back out into the living room, where Eric sat still wrapped up in the blanket.  

Shit. Now you had to figure out where he was going to sleep. Although you’d taken short naps on your couch before, it most definitely wasn’t comfortable for a full night’s sleep.

“You can sleep in my bed tonight,” you offered, not bothering to dance around the topic. Eric jumped a little at your sudden entrance into the room, and when he processed the words he shook his head. 

“No, no it’s okay! Really! I’m just fine right here!” he started to pick up the couch pillows you’d put in the floor while you were both sitting there, and tucked them into the opposite end of the couch he was sitting on. “See?” 

“Eric, you would be so uncomfortable! Really, I mean it. I don’t mind.”  

“I—I couldn’t take your own bed from you!” he replied, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. You considered this for a moment. 

“Well…would it make it better if you just joined me?” You asked, but immediately regretted the word choice when the color drained from Eric’s face as froze in place and stared back at you from across the room like a deer caught in head lights. 

You shook you head. “I mean, not like that—“ You alternatively felt heat rush to your cheeks as you waved your hand dismissively. “I mean, that way it’s a win-win. I’m not put out, and you can actually rest a bit...I know you’re tired.” 

“O-oh……” he replied quietly, his eyes sliding away from your gaze and to the floor. “I, uhh, I guess—I, yeah, yeah. That sounds, ah, good.” 

“Good,” you nodded. “Well, whenever you’re ready.” 

You turned and walked back into your bedroom. You pulled back the covers in your king-size bed and grabbed an extra blanket to lay on top, since it was getting colder by the minute. You had a battery-operated light on your desk that you chose to use to illuminate the room. You climbed underneath the covers at sat leaning against the headboard, scrolling through messages on your phone for a bit until Eric eventually entered the room.  

He’d only been in your room a couple times before, and definitely not to stay for an extended period of time. He stood just a step inside, unsure of what to do next. He had switched out his button-up shirt for a baggy white t-shirt that you’d offered to him, and he was already wearing a pair of black sweatpants. He’d taken off his shoes and held his glasses in his hands, cleaning the lenses to give himself something to do. 

“All ready for you!” you stated, patting the spot on the mattress next to you. 

“G-great!” He walked around to the opposite side of the bed from you, and gently placed his glasses on the table next to it before settling himself under the covers, at the very edge of the bed. You lightly smiled at him, and he timidly returned your expression with a slight smile of his own. His hair was slightly messy, a couple dark curls standing up off the side of his head, and his eyes were at a slight squint to look at you clearly without his round glasses. You held back the urge to kiss him; you didn’t want to make this any more uncomfortable than it might have already been. 

“I, ah, I blew the candles out,” he stated as you turned to place your phone on the nightstand on your side of the bed, a final, large yawn escaping your chest. 

“Thank you,” you replied, glancing over at him a final time before scooting down to lie on the mattress. “Need anything before I pass out?”  

“I’m good!” he answered quickly, shaking his head.  

“Alright. Don’t be afraid to wake me up if you need something,” you offered. You tucked the covers up high on your shoulders like you always did, and turned yourself away from him to face the bedroom door, like always. “Well, goodnight!” 

“G-goodnight, y/n,” he answered quietly. Your eyes were closed, the room hardly lit, but after a moment of stillness you heard Eric carefully shift under the covers so that he was lying down. He’d hardly moved at all, oddly enough. And you never felt him get any closer to you. 

After a few minutes that felt more like hours, you couldn’t take it. You lifted up on one arm and turned your head just enough to look over at him; he was lying with the blankets hardly even up to his waist, flat on his back, his hands resting on his stomach, making himself as small as possible.  

You sometimes forgot that this was Eric's first true, serious relationship with someone, and there were some things that he was still learning to be comfortable with. But you really, really, liked him. You’d never spent time with someone so genuinely themselves, so kind and caring of everyone around them, someone who knew so much about the most random things and could entertain you with his knowledge for hours. 

An idea occurred to you. You were just being practical, right? 

“Eric,” you muttered, barely over a whisper.  

“Hm?” he asked, and now your eyes had adjusted enough to see that he hadn’t even closed his yet. Oh, honey. 

“You’re gonna get cold.” 

“I’m okay,” he answered quickly, but you could already hear the slight shiver in his voice. You were glad he couldn’t see the warm smile that his damn adorableness forced on you. 

You considered your next idea for a moment, but decided to just go for it. You scooted yourself closer to Eric’s statue-still form and gently rested your head on his chest. You draped one of your arms over him, pulling him away from the edge of the bed ever so slightly. Your palm rested on the opposite side of his chest from your head.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. You could practically hear his heart trying to burst at the sudden and very close contact, but you felt him nod. 

“Yeah…this is...nice,” Eric replied. “Thank you, y/n.” 

You didn’t say anything, feeling no need for more words. You closed your eyes as you rested against him. His heartbeat descended into its normal pace, and eventually into only a slow, gentle thump in your ear as you both drifted into a warm, peaceful slumber. 

[thechekhov]

how would you recommend an artist make themselves better known on tumblr and in general? ive been drawing and painting almost my whole life but its hard to get people to notice me, any advice? thank you, you're my fave artist

Thank you so much! That makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside…

As for your questions… hmm… it’s for sure a good one. 

I’m going to get a bit… strategical on that one. Hope you don’t mind this approach. 

Tumblr and real life are definitely alike in a lot of aspects, while in others they’re polar opposites. For the sake of keeping things neatly shelved, I’m going to focus on tumblr in this post.

＊*☆HOW TO GET ART NOTICED ON TUMBLR☆*＊

by chekhov

1. We have to understand how the tumblr sharing system works. 

I know this sounds a bit too obvious. I mean, we all know HOW. It’s by reblogging! 

I know that there’s a BIG opinion on tumblr that we should share and reblog art as much as possible to help artists get noticed. And that’s TRUE. It’s absolutely correct.

One thing I don’t agree with on that front is the guilt-tripping factor of it all. Like somehow people are responsible for the downfall of less popular artists because they didn’t reblog stuff enough. People are really quick to point at their followers and say “I GOT 100 OF Y’ALL HERE AND ONLY 3 ARE REBLOGGING ANYTHING”. 

I get it. It’s frustrating!

But the fact of the matter is, you can’t force people to reblog stuff. 

Instead, I recommend we harvest the power of the sharing we already have. We have to be smart about this. What I’m going to go into is a bit less concrete. We have to think about the PEOPLE who are doing the reblogging. 

Artists aren’t the ONLY ones with motivations for getting their stuff seen. And because they create media they are, for lack of a better word… a vendor! The buck STARTS with them, but it doesn’t stop with them. 

They have to also think about what the people are going to do with their product once it’s reblogged. Once someone buys from the vendor, they don’t just keep it forever. They distribute it to the others. And sometimes, those others distribute it again. We have to think about the bigger picture, and think about how FAR your art has the potential to go!

So, to get started we need to know… WHO are the ones buying from the vendor… and why?

What kind of rebloggers ARE there? 

I’m going to give my own opinion here, and feel free to disagree. But the 3 biggest rebloggers most important to the artist are these:

1. The Pleaser

Sounds sexy, right? In fact, the pleaser comes in many different forms. But essentially their goal is the same - they reblog stuff like aesthetic posts, and other pleasing things. They themselves tend to like a lot of stuff and reblog mostly beautiful photos, nice designs, and lots of fanart of whatever they’re into at the time. Comics and story-like posts are good here (although if they’re too long, people tend to lose interest.)

How to get reblogged by a Pleaser?

Appeal to their fandom, their interest, and make something that moves them. Pleasers are most active around the time when the new episode of their favorite show comes out, or when their favorite holiday comes around. Drawing fanart during its peak popularity will usually catch a Pleasers’ attention, as will drawing aesthetic Halloween posts around, well, Halloween. 

2. The Teaser

The Teaser is the class clown and the shitposter, and they reblog memes and jokes voraciously. In the Teaser’s audience are other teasers - and they also tend to be very generous rebloggers. The fact of the matter is - memes sell reblogs faster than any aesthetic art will. We’re social creatures and getting a laugh out of our followers is worth a LOT of fake internet points.

How do I get reblogged by the Teaser?

Memes. I mean, you knew this was coming, right? During the height of some new tumblr joke, people usually welcome any unusual spin, or any funny variation of an old joke. 

My meme redraws have consistently been popular and have ‘boomed’ very quickly. For example, this redraw of sapphire from Steven Universe doing ‘the scroll of truth’ jumped to 5k almost within a day. 

Many people peek at my page ‘for the lols’ but end up staying for the art, or because there’s another thing I post they’re interested in. Either way, memes are a gateway drug… to your blog. 

3. The Librarian

The Librarian is a bit more rare, but they’re still important, because they tend to reblog a lot. They’re a bit unusual in the sense that they do this for themselves, instead of for an audience. The blog of the librarian is mostly just a replacement for bookmarking interesting stuff. These people tend to reblog tutorials, reference posts, and things they want to read later on. 

How to get reblogged by a Librarian?

Make things that people want to keep around. Charts, references, tutorials. Chances are, the librarian will snag it up eventually. 

Of course, these 3 aren’t the ONLY type of tumblr blogger. In fact, many of them are a mix of these 3. But the main point is…

2. What do most of these (and other) people on tumblr have in common?

Just like you, many people (although not all) want to get their stuff SEEN. You might be creating the original product, but they choose whether or not to distribute it to their audience. 

Everyone is playing the same game, no matter which part of the chain they’re on.

You, as an artist, have the biggest responsibility to think about this long-term. Not only 1 reblog down the line. 

For example, let’s return to one of my meme-posts that I did about wrist pain (carpal tunnel). When I made this, I had a vague idea of who would consume it. Obviously… other artists. But the reason that this got so popular? Is not only because fellow artists follow me. It’s because the artists that follow me also have followers who are also, conveniently, artists. That’s why despite the fact that many people reblogged the post directly from me - even MORE of them reblogged it from @sergle​ (shoutout to sergle! u rock) who is also a popular artist and also has an audience who were prone to want to reblog the post.

See that orange dot? That’s me. See that bigger blue dot? That’s sergle. 

In a way, this is a game of chance. Will something you reblog be seen by someone with a large enough audience to keep it going? The thing is, we don’t know until it happens. And oftentime, the only way to achieve this is to keep trying. Stubbornly. 

But you can’t just headbutt the wall in the same place and hope it eventually crumbles. You have to look for a door. 

3. So what’s the door? 

Take a look at your art. Is it consumable BEYOND the surface level of your followers? 

Sometimes people get discouraged because their fanart is way more popular than their original art. Although I share their frustration, there’s a good reason for this, and your followers aren’t to blame.  

The thing is, fanart is consumable at deep reblog levels. If you post fanart, there’s a good chance that even 3-4 reblogs down the line, there’s going to be a person who sees it and thinks ‘hey, I know Steven Universe. My followers know Steven Universe. I’ll reblog this!’ Fandoms are efficient because they already have a lot of context for the consumption of the art. They have a story (humans love stories), they’re invested in it, they’re interested in it, and there’s a good chance that sharing more stuff about it will get them more interaction with their mutuals, even if they’re not consciously thinking about all this as they reblog. 

Unfortunately, that’s just not true for your original art. Many of us have beautiful, wonderful stories - but they’re not available to a wide audience. They’re not easily consumed, they’re not easily accessed (in comparison to being on netflix, for example). If you post a picture of your OC - maybe your immediate pool of followers who know that OC will reblog it. But their own followers who aren’t directly following you will not have any connection, emotional or otherwise, to that character. They simply don’t have a reason to care, and they don’t have any means to. Even if they visit your blog - will it be easy to find similar content? Have you got your links available on desktop AND mobile? Is it easy to find the beginning of your story? Is it free of mistakes and easy to read? 

Large companies that make shows or comics funnel tons of money into making their media consumable. There’s a LOT of effort that goes into advertising, too. You, as an independent artist, simply don’t have that kind of manpower. That’s not your fault - but it’s also not your followers’ fault. Why are they supposed to reblog things that their own followers will never understand and connect with? 

4. Back to square one: how do I get noticed? 

I’m gonna keep this short and sweet because I feel like I already took up a lot of your time. After everything I’ve said, hopefully this will make sense:

Make content that has a connection to your audience somehow. Make it relatable to their life. Make it relatable to what’s currently going on. Make it worth their while to look at it. 

Make content that’s easy to understand. Super detailed drawings, with nothing to focus on are difficult to digest. Simpler, sharper drawings that someone can understand within 3 seconds of looking at it are the most digestible of all. This isn’t a museum.

If you’re creating content that goes with a story, MAKE THE STORY. I know it’s tempting to create just a whole bunch of character sketch sheets and leave it at that, but you can’t complain about not getting an audience when your audience doesn’t have anything to consume in the first place. 

Make the story AVAILABLE. Organize your tags. Make sure those tags are easily accessible. People will never like 100% of your art, so many it easy for them to find what they WILL like. 

Don’t be afraid of fanart. Fanart gets you connected with people who like stories and content similar to yours. 

Don’t be afraid to follow and reblog people that you want to connect with. Don’t be afraid to make them stuff and @ them. 

Post your stuff to a LOT of places! Your audience is somewhere out there - probably not only on tumblr. You have to spread yourself thin sometimes, but make sure the account can all lead back to your main hub. 

And last but not least…

Critically re-evaluate your art at least once a year. (I’m personally working on this.) Just because you’ve been drawing for years, and just because your art might be incredible doesn’t mean it’s appealing to people. Sounds weird, right? But think about it - there’s TONS of people who are not that amazing at anatomy, or coloring… but they still have a huge audience, and people connect with their art. A lot of times, it’s because their art is straightforward and easy to read/understand. 

Ask a friend to critique your art. Ask them if they understand your work, or if it’s difficult to make out. Ask them what your work inspires in them. Ask them what they DO like about your work - and exaggerate that!

There’s a LOT that goes into art… no matter it’s a whole industry! Doing it all on your own is HARD and it’s a bit unthinkable how much artists have to do to compete with industries. But it’s not impossible, and it’s definitely worth it. :)

Hope I didn’t bore any of y’all who made it down this far. 

Thanks!

[kado-maschine]

How to be alone?

Everyone has problems right? Those who don't, either don't understand what the term problem means, or they are inanimate matter, but even inanimate matter has problems too because of entropy.

Anyhow, my scariest bogeyman is that at best I can't make a relationship work, and at worst I even avoid the chance of having one. Why? If I want to put it simply, fuck knows. Thing is that I'm not gonna put it simple this time, as what I have learned from fake news propagated by Russian troll armies is that everything that is simple, sensational and easy to understand is not very productive apart from having the intention to muddy the waters and serve a very select few by doing so.

Since my interest is to clarify things for my own good (and maybe help or at least entertain others), truth is the name of the game with this writing (whatever it turns out to be). If there will be no other benefits, at least I’m going to be  able to cross off the mental task off my imaginary to do list.

One day, after having a rather enjoyable horse at the vet sensation, as I went to bed I had the same sensation that I was having as a child on countless occasions when I couldn't sleep or woke up randomly during the night. The bed, the sheets and most importantly the pillows felt like they are made some rigid, abrasive material, that is also disgusting. It felt like being embraced by disgust and bitterness. Normally my bed and I are best buddies, I love to sleep and I had no problem falling asleep on a beam bag in the middle of the office, during business hours. The chemistry was also supposed to help, not to deteriorate. Fast forward a few weeks while sitting on the bed and drinking a cuba made of free rum and overpriced PEPSI from the hotel's mini fridge I'm trying to figure out, when and why was I having problems with sleep before and when was I sleeping like a baby and why. In recent history, since my memory is one very slippery slope, the answer is a no, a no regarding detectable issues with my sleep. It is a no, as long as all the nights spent with gaming, night shifts or digging through obscure forums to find a track in a mix somewhere between minute 53 and 57 are not considered. Reflecting on the whole experience described above, I must have had trouble sleeping when I was a really small child and I was missing a lot. As I was growing up things got gradually better. By the time I was in high school the wardrobe have been conquered and turned into my gaming nest. The gaming room hosted my first gaming pc that I built piece by piece from a shitty Athlon that dad got screwed over by some "friend" and beloved games that kept me glued to the screen for hours on end. After the PC came my first car, job, girlfriend and slowly but surely as I moved away from my parents my own life really started to take shape. I have slept better and better. Now, armed with a mortgage, with two cars that possibly cost as much put together as a front bumper for a brand new BMW M3, two cats who are by far not the smartest but they keep me company and are cute af, two bicycles, a bunch of computers and a job that I'm grateful to have and one that fits my questionable attitude towards work, I yet again arrived to the point where the quality of my sleep is degrading faster than a space capsule entering the atmosphere, despite all the the things listed above were part of what I was dreaming of as a child and teenager/student.

Despite all of these, I'm oscillating between two states when it comes to sleep. One is the depression sleep, after taking a long hard look at my backlog that reaches to the Moon and back at least five times, taking a nap seems to be the only viable option, or multiple naps, or a humongous sleep where the only thing that can get me out of bed is the need to pee. The other one is the let's try to solve all of my problems in a purely theoretical manner, right before sleep, going over the same problems over and over, while making wild conspiracy theories about myself, because of the purely hypothetical setting. This mental kung-fu under some circumstances can turn into the above mentioned “being embraced by disgust” thing. How did I get here?

I've seen people being happier while having a lot less. What is that they have and I do not possess? Intimacy, I guess by the power of exclusion. Of course I could just short this whole thing before it gets off the ground, as a self-proclaimed good capitalist. I could say that If I can make enough money, someone will fake it for me for the financial benefit and as long as this someone does the thing right and tricks to my brain, I couldn't give less a of a fuck, or could I? Anyhow, with my current work ethic of extracting as much resources as possible form as little invested work as possible puts a cap on my earnings that limits my financial possibilities to roadside STD intimacy. Shut up! - screams the humanist from somewhere between repressed emotions and avoided social responsibilities. You have to make things work, otherwise you're just treating the symptoms, but the root cause remains and will re-surface over and over again - he continues. Now, call me Susan and you know the rest...  A multitude of attempts were made to solve this mess, so I kept failing in various ways. Yes, my now my mantra is "failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, success, failure, failure, success". Despite this attitude, one can only take so many failures before feeling exhausted and gets worse at the task on hand because of said tiredness and fails even more. People also tend to tell me that I need to learn to be happy alone. Please, shut the fuck up. Despite my shitposting, which i find genuinely funny, good and somewhat toxic way of escapism, I can be happy when I'm alone. Just to bring one example to the table, the road to this very hotel room where I'm writing this whatever right now, took me through one of the twistiest mountain passes that gets you outside of the Carpathian basin, the road goes through the city of Cheia (BV) and it has dozens upon dozens of hairpins one after another and miles upon miles of narrow, twisty roads with a bunch of elevation changes. My right foot just couldn’t care about fuel consumption. With my tires squealing in almost every corner and I was laughing loudly in the car, spanking the dash and shouting "ohh yea" while I could let the steering wheel loose for a few seconds. Dancing alone in the living room when the track of the week or month hits out of the blue, or when the right people at the right party are found to have "deep" conversations about whatever stupid topics that our brain soaking in whatever cocktail finds to be fit for purpose. The thing is, if one spent somewhere in the neighbourhood of six years trying all the gizmos and distractions of the modern society to make him or herself be happy without intimacy and succeeded to some extent, but at the same time realized that hundreds of thousands of years of evolutional biology and al the workflows tied into it cannot be cheated in a lifespan, what are the limits for being happy alone?

I have reached a point where the things that cause me unconditional pleasure are getting very complicated, time consuming, expensive or dangerous, like buying car parts, pushing transportation devices to their limits, gambling with bs crypto currencies or trying to learn skills with a heck of a learning curve, not to mention experimenting with chemically induced changes in my brain activity. I have also reached a point where it gets harder and harder to trick my biology. The ape says reproduce, while this in the modern era where global warming is prevalent and innocent eyed orphans  are making t-shirts in Bangladesh for next to nothing in a sweatshop, while China’s rivers deliver more plastic to the oceans than water kind world makes no sense. I could  at least fool the ape with just having someone around and occasionally making love or engaging in other forms of intimacy. At least the thresholds would be closer and it would be a lot simpler to fool the inner ape and the hormone levels wouldn't need to filled up with lies that much. Besides the raw biological teardown, having someone around as a partner where the positive interactions outweigh the negative ones could be the basis of a symbiosis between two humans.

If some intimacy / sex / company would help, why I’m not having any? - the question poses. In theory, the ins and outs have been mapped out. It all started, as it mostly does, during childhood. The marriage of my parents went totally south when my sister was born and I had 4 years, so my long term memory just started working. This meant that my memory had no part of seeing a single act of intimacy of my primary caregivers towards each other, just shouting, aside from my grandmother and my favourite aunt giving me a hug sometimes. It was a real battle zone where a few hours without shouting were far and few between. This and a lot of other shit that my parents were haunted by, courtesy of their own pasts gave me exactly zero knowledge on how to read woman. I’m basically fucking blind. Even if I was any good at maths I would loose count of the occasions when someone told me, “Look at that girl / woman, how she’s looking at us / you” and I had to ask where to look, in terms of general direction, not to mention the ability to pick up small signs. How do I see the sign, if a year or so have passed since we ’been together and I didn’t know the eye colour of my first girlfriend. Sounds surprising right? Well, when batshit crazy is considered normal for the first 20 years of your life, climbing out of that perspective has quite a learning curve. If that learning curve weren’t damn steep enough as is, add a stupid decision to it, and be very disciplined about that stupid decision for years, and the shitstorm will be near perfect. But I come back to the near perfection of the shitstorm in a bit.

First of all, how about that first girlfriend and the stupid decision? I think I might have been 18yo when I had my first kiss and I was 19yo when I met my first girlfriend. I would have never ended up her boyfriend if I wasn’t drunk on a particular party and were just kissed by another girl who was into me boosting my morale, the cherry on the top of the cake being that I knew from a friend of my sister that my would be ex was into me. All these factors played into the hand of a relationship that lasted two and a half years and could have been a major leaping stone for me. She looked gorgeous and a chemistry was spot on. We learned things together and I learned how and where and when to touch a woman. Since I was still in the grasp of the narrow conservative (small rural town, what do you expect?) mindset I did and said a bunch of things I’m not proud of. Hopefully she learnt more from those lessons as much as I did or even more. So, why wasn’t this relationship the bridge between my loneliness and the ability to have functioning relationships? Why instead of being a leaping stone I stumbled and fell into a ditch head first?

When it ended, the feeling was so shitty, that the most logical conclusion to my very simplistic mind was to avoid feeling like that again altogether, therefore becoming cold and distant become the primary guidelines. Six years of loneliness ensued. Going without sex, kissing anyone or hugging could be easily measured in moths or even a year. Months have passed between occasional one night stands, where the hunter was determined or drunk enough to not to care about my cluelessness, or the hunted was drunk enough to not to be totally unapproachable or clueless or both. Even if they were looking to turn the one night stand into multiple nights or maybe a relationship, due to the long stretches of loneliness and due to the weird sexual expectations that arose during said long stretches of nothingness, I felt so weird and ashamed of myself, that I turned down further invitations and couldn’t bring myself to talk to them. Basically, from their perspective, I had sex with them, than I disappeared in the ether. I have managed to show myself in a successful a-hole kind a way, while I felt like the most unlucky, ugly and talentless piece of shit (now that’s what I call “an achievement”).

Despite the fact that I found myself highly repulsive for a long time, hiding behind sunglasses and foundation I had enough self confidence to let woman try. And boy oh boy, they did try. Those who were more desperate were more determined, while those who had multiple choices open had a look, maybe had some fun and than left seeing the vast cluster of insecurities behind the sketchy façade that looked enticing from a distance, but fell apart upon closer inspection. People told me that I was good looking and I should have a girlfriend and I truly believed for years that they were only saying this to save face. Now, looking back, I’m starting to realize that I’m not ugly, I might even be good looking by some metrics. This realization came as the memory lane of old pictures was revisited again and again. Upon closer inspection all the woman around me, hugging me, giving me kisses on photos became evident. It is one thing that I couldn’t capitalize on any of that, but I realized, how lucky am I that genetics favoured me. Elsewise, if the gene pool wouldn’t have been kind to me at least in this department, I would be the most neglected man, considering my social and dating skills. Or the lack thereof, to be more precise. One thing to be grateful for.

Before this realization occurred, I shit you not, I had to realize first, that the policy I applied after I broke up with my first girlfriend was seriously affecting me. It was like one of those cases, when a temporary workaround is put in place for something, everyone forgets about it, than it causes a major shitstorm in the long run when something breaks down the line, messing up a forgotten but needed dependency. Before this realization life went by casually in a perfect state of cognitive dissonance, by not willing to open up for anyone, not willing to pay attention to anyone’s feelings and yet craving intimacy and blaming the world for not providing any.

So ok, during the time it took for the realization to kick in some amazing woman drifted away. ”What do you do now, you dumb fucking bitch?” - asks one part of the brain. “Well, you stand up, use less swearwords, or edit them out later and keep moving on hoping that each failure at least landed some useful experience points that can be used as a solid base for improvement.” - says the other. So this is how the journey of relationship 101 and emotion handling begun.

Phase 1. Trying to establish a relationship, but being emotionally unavailable.

There’s was a girl who added me on facebook after after a party and somehow I managed to puzzle the picture together. She was there, she saw me playing music, she liked me and she tried to reach out. We have started talking, we have started going out and we kept going out without me doing any advances for 3 moths, when she finally had enough and invited me over to her place to watch Narcos. That night was followed by a relationship that lasted approx two months when she kicked me out, calling me insensitive and unable to care for her emotionally. She was totally right.

Moving on, I drop a comment on some meme posted by one of the girls I met at the University a few years ago. She replies to my comment, I reply to hers, the discussion moves to chat. After a couple of days she tells me that she is coming home from abroad and we shall meet. I agree. The meeting happens, other things happen, we get along really well, meet two more times and consider ourselves to be in a long distance relationship. She’s very enthusiastic, wants to communicate with me, she’s being cute and I’m still 100% emotionally unavailable. When I finally decide to visit her, after dragging the topic for months, she cuts me loose. Rightfully so. Off course, I delete her from social media, and decide that whatever, I’ll make enough money so someone will stay with me for that, even if I’m an emotional iceberg laced with titanium (un-fucking-penetrable). What an utterly crappy response to being rejected, says captain hindsight.

Phase 2. Overflow.

Next up, wasted on party (but in a mildly good way) and another girl who remembers me from a festival that took place years ago initiates a conversation and I end up hanging out with her and all of her girlfriends. We party, we talk, we decide to go to an after at their place. Due to administrative reasons when I get there only one of them is there, so we start talking. Meanwhile people are arriving, chemicals are wearing off and kicking in, dynamics change. Finally everyone gives in and we sleep together. The next day (because the next days always counts from the moment when you wake up) we talk, have a long walk, I unload a mental excel of pros and cons about myself to her since honesty can only be good (later on my psychologist tells me the contrary, since what I do is scary and things should be let to unravel by themselves) and I leave town.  After my short city break is over we decide to meet and she’s over at my place before I could blink. We start hanging out more and more. Even If I have the tendency to make the same mistakes over and over again, just to be sure that they are mistakes and I have mastered the recipe, this time I knew that I have to open myself up. The theoretical part was ok, as the plan was to move slowly and open myself up step by step over an extended period of time.  Unfortunately the gap between theory and practice sometimes can accommodate a few light years in between, so all of the emotions that I managed to bottle up over the years managed to get out after only a few careful steps. She had her own problems, I had mine and they didn’t make a good combination, but a rather unfortunate one. Disregarding the fact that I have tried to invest emotionally, I still couldn’t care for her emotional needs. The whole thing blew up in my face, basically. Being blind to anything that is less obvious than she suddenly turning to me in the middle of the night and saying, “I have to go home”,  and having the alarm of something is not right going off is not the hallmark of being ready for a relationship. Another part of the lecture was that revealing rating systems to woman about woman is a double edged ice cream that mostly licks back instead of being licked. For those who don’t view the world from an engineering / mathematical (call it as you fancy) perspective, there are people out there who measure and categorize everything. This in a relation means that the relevant parameters like, looks, intelligence (or the lack thereof), like mindedness, biological match, size of the cultural gap (if applies), financial and social situation are all measured on a scale and the weighted average tells if the other person is a match or not, and how good a match it is. Unfolding this information in my situation turned out to be a major no-no. Based on the very narrow sample, I was convinced that this is how it is and I should never again reveal my rating system ever again. Luckily, lately a friend of mine told me that his girlfriend appreciated this kind of approach, so the analytics based way of thinking is not my mental dead end, only it has to be used after a lot of observation and in the right situation with the right people as the “target audience” seems to be quite small. By the time we got to the point of me revealing my rating system, red flags were flying all over. Thing is red flags are easy to miss even with experience not to mention barely having any. When you add that up to the fact that you need a planetary alignment that occurs every 5000 years to be able to get close to someone, you also finally manage to let your guard down and you know that giving up on things is generally considered bad and dedication is king, those red flags are rendered inexistent in the quantum soup of thoughts. All of the above combined leads to the materialization of one very specific dynamic in attachment theory, where the anxious one is trying to get closer and to invest more in general, while the avoidant is getting further and further away, creating a situation where both feel frustrated. Fast forward a little (as the whole thing lasted two months), she cuts me loose and I have no clue how to deal with the tsunami of the emotions that are now very much on the surface and the pink cloud that acted as a distraction is gone and the withdrawal starts to kick in. A downward spiral begins that ends with being so desperate to escape the sensation of a panic attack being one mental “block” away that I start taking random meds and drinking, because at one point they have to override my emotions. I don’t want to kill myself per se, but I made peace with the thought that if I need to die to escape that state of mind, I’m fine with it.

Luckily since I’m an attention whore, I’m not doing this in total silence and even if I’m not being totally upfront about it, my friends and people who are not my friends but are nice people and just care realize that something is off and rush in to help. Their intentions are really good, however, most of them are not experts and just share their best practices. Five or six best practices in, one is confused as fekk. This confusion is that finally pushes me through the barrier to seek professional help. Luck was by my side as I found a psychologist I could work with from the get go. As we were moving forward with therapy I was still trying to resuscitate a very dead relationship. The contrast between my interactions with the therapist and my ex were miles apart. While I was still rowing the waters “make her feel sorry for me” and told her how I tried to get my overboiling emotions in check, scaring her tremendously, creating a mess of emotions for both of us, the how's and whys and the to-dos were very clear during therapy. At one point the psychologist said that “You see the situation very clearly, you are also very conscious about what you did and what are the possible ramifications of your actions and you also have a plan as to how to fix them, why are you here?” My answer was simple: “While I’m in a state of rest, where I’m not being cornered by my own emotions all is clear, however, once shit hits the fan, all of the logic that was nicely put together goes out of the window and I start acting borderline crazy”.

As the therapy sessions flew by and the links to my ex started to fade, things ere starting to stabilize. All that was left is what I call “light general depression”. Light general depression is exactly what its name stands for. It doesn’t contain joy (apart from chain-smoking, watching tons of YouTube videos about video games and cars, binge eating pizza and ice cream and drinking herculean amounts of rum), existing feels bad and pointless, but it is not terrible, there are no big ups and downs and existence in this state can go on for extended periods time. As one of these days passed by as experienced from the warm hug of an unnecessarily long bath I randomly texted a friend to see what is she up to. She was hanging out by herself, drinking and asked me if I wanted to join, so I did. By the time I got there another woman was at the table. Nothing special, we introduced ourselves and carried on drinking. I did not find this new addition to my pool of acquaintances physically attractive, that under normal circumstances could have been a trigger, however she was very intriguing. As the alcohol levels in our blood gained an ever larger foothold, the discussion suddenly turned into one of those that go down the rabbit hole of serious emotions and life experiences. I love these discussions (hence the experience, wink wink), they are the bread and butter of why am I socializing. It is almost pointless to say that as the discussion turned into the two of us going on a philosophical rampage about depression and explaining the how’s and why’s to anyone around us the spark went off. Finally, as the night came to a close and everyone said their goodbyes only the two of us were left walking the through the streets bursting with nightlife telling more and more intimate stories about ourselves. As we reached her place and said goodbye I got stuck in the mental loop of what to do after a meeting and discussion like this. Luckily she promptly bypassed the situation by shaking my hand and telling me something along the lines of “till next time”. The next day the temptation was simply irresistible not to stalk her online. By the time I got a glimpse of her through her profile her friend request already landed safely.

She left town for a few weeks (if I’d be religious or into spiritual stuff, I’d say there’s a link to the previous relationship, luckily I am not, life is just hugely random), but we agreed that I would take her to party when she comes back, since she haven’t been to one since her son was born. Meanwhile I also found out that she had what she described as a “sort of boyfriend”. While all of this was unravelling my brain dripping with curiosity kicked me into higher and higher gears as my taste of the unusual and complicated got ever more triggered. Finally the day of the party came and it was the best party I ever attended where I didn’t like the music at all. We really connected. Looking back at that level of connection, I couldn’t tell if we were really alike in some terms and hugely different in others, or she is just simply darn good at showing what people would like to see. A few days later she invited me to watch a movie, we watched the whole movie without me totally being unable to do any advances, again, unless we finally decided to sleep. Things happened. That night was the starting point of a journey that lasted 7 months and included lots of love, lots of desperation, living together with ex boyfriends, handling a spoiled 4 year old boy, discussing and trying to come to terms with a father that got lost in the ether, lots of calculated action combined with a shit-ton of impulsivity and lot more. What I learned in this relationship about trauma, falling victim of compensating for trauma, overusing resources without considering the future, keeping something useless and counterproductive in your life just because it makes you feel superior, utterly useless - clueless and spoiled people, the consequences of being inconsistent in a child’s education hopefully could fill pages on its own, If I managed to learn something. All of this is still just scratching the surface. The full and detailed version of said list serves material for more writings as this paragraph could go on for dozens of pages, but it won’t to avoid further side-tracking. Also, some of these lessons still need processing time for the sake of being able to paint a picture that is more accurate rather than soaked with emotions. What is certain is that at least one writing (if not more) about overprotective parents running the risk of handicapping their children, involuntary hostage taking and kindness as a useless perk if not accompanied by other skills will come at one point. With the this pitch out of the way, let’s get back to the relationship itself. To put it simply, there was this man, dressed in black from head to toe, wearing black nail polish occasionally, being a strong proponent for nihilism and putting himself at risk for the excitement of being exposed to risk while also testing all sorts of limits because an “engineer” has to know the limits, right? During the course of a few months this man had a child seat in the back of his car, learned how to micromanage educational failures by measuring, not just feeling and truly cared for the wellbeing of a few people. He had the impression that he found his place in a world where he previously tried to fill the void by proving the pointlessness of life through reckless (and very fun) activities. Thrusters were set to 110% as the pink fog of “this is it, we have to commit and do this” descended on the brain cells locked in a hormone fuelled frenzy. Finally I experienced a Christmas where I felt happy and loved instead of trying to avoid conflict and hating the world in general.

While I was working on getting myself involved in a hot, crazy mess, thrusters 110% on, I happened to stay at my former flatmate’s parents for two days. I love going there, not just because it served as a perfect base for a weekend of partying, but it is one of those places where a family functions in a symbiosis, not co-dependence. Very-very-very fucking important difference. I love to see how people interact with one another when the main driving force is not fear, but understanding, where attachment comes from the light, not darkness. Even now it makes me to slightly tear up to know, that family can be good, not something to avoid as much as possible, if handled properly. Sights like these give hope. Anyhow, before this detour gets too big, I had good chat with my ex flatmate’s mom where she told me “Kado, don’t look for woman who fit you best, look for someone simple who is capable to learn”. Objectively speaking, this was the best advice I ever received about dating. Worry not, this will not be left unexplained, jut not right now.

So with this advice in mind, the weekend ended and the quest of getting myself deeper into the murky waters of chronic co-dependence was back. As the first few months of the relation flew by and we went from low profile affair to we’re together now and everyone should know about it, more and more details emerged of an ex that could only commit to a relationship when the imminent loss of her partner is present. It also became clear that his incompetence serves as his major attraction, since a man that is kind, but lacks any purpose and logic to derive any said purpose is highly desirable for an ego that cherishes being superior. It became evident how this dynamic eroded seven or so years of the than “woman of my dreams” into a quagmire. My nativity was strong enough to redirect the previously mentioned thrusters to pull her out of the quagmire by the power of micromanagement. The end result hovering in the distance was that my help could propel her to regain traction. As soon as she will be  in a better place and I can get just a bit more of those tiny glimpses of her former happy self, we’ll be on track to create what we referred to as a “power couple”. However, one thing that flew under my radar and finally led to the demise of this premise was an important conclusion drawn after years of being a cog in the corporate machine. Never give 100%, maybe at the beginning, but not even then. Not to talk about 110%, as no person can operate on those levels for months on end, unless driven by amphetamines or coke, but that will take an even higher price in the longer run. If one still decides to go down this path, burnout will be just around the corner. When said burnout meets with someone who needs therapy rather than relationships, shit will go down. Empathy will run out after the same mistake leads to the same crisis for the zillionth time, emotional attachment generates fear in conjunction with each re-occurring crisis and “the you shouldn’t do this, you should do that” tone prevails. The thing is, if I look at my ability to get very cruel, cold and calculating when feeling emotionally cornered as gift or as a curse, it doesn’t matter, it still happens. Detailing to a mother how others managed to solve something with relative ease that she couldn’t or barely could and that she should do this and that, in that situation is a major no-no. I think when it comes about parenting, egos flight higher than Icarus. As one of the cornerstones of empathy is to try to put yourself in the shoes of others, I tired imagining how it could feel like if someone, dunnoh, attacked me because I can’t do maths for shit, or that I have a tendency to abandon my plans. In conclusion, the grey matter sitting inside this skull that is producing these lines might just feel comfortable when it comes to shedding ego. Whit our dynamics auto optimizing themselves to counteract one another in a pretty toxic way, the inevitable happened. We agreed that we can’t understand one another no more, therefore it was time to break up.

In order to minimize the pain a full communication lockdown went in effect to add another twist to the Covid-19 lockdown. This combined with making a few new friends while doubling down on substance abuse spiced with getting into relapse territory with other woman got me ticking along. I think it is pointless to say that this mechanism used for calming emotions wasn’t the best. First, natural coping mechanisms were obliterated even before getting a theoretical shape, not to talk about trying them and maybe getting some experience, second, these coping mechanisms took their own toll on my body and psyche and third, they crumbled in the very moment when my ex reached out to me to normalize our relation as two human beings who happen to know one another. It only took a few hours for the stream of emotions to turn into whirlpool of anger and darkness where my criminal mind flourishes. And boy do I have a criminal mind. When the going gets rough it isn’t like I can’t control myself and start shouting, and throwing things around. No-no, it’s not like that at all, but it is like making plans, evil plans, plans that would make a drug cartel hitman nod in approval. The way these “solutions” from the dark end of the spectrum interact with checks and balances look like: “what I would say of a totally unrelated person who does that” or “what were the consequences if my plans were revealed and such”. This time, all these impulses distilled in ever more frequent and strategic use of creating constructive ambiguity by selectively revealing secrets and manipulation. The cherry on the top was put in place when she reached out to me when she tried to re-establish post breakup communication, consisting in grabbing all sorts of dark echoes that race through my mind, amplifying them and revealing them to her in order to make sure that she’ll be convinced that I’m a horrible, dangerous and aggressive person underneath, therefore she’ll never attempt to communicate with me, ever. It wasn’t nice, at all, but it was violence free apart from me running my mouth and it worked, for a while.

So far so good, the plan worked great. I made friends with new people, both offline and online and I had a few who were interested in me and maybe still are (as you might have noticed so far, can’t really tell). The plan was to get some mileage into the game and get more experience points and to learn, for which diversity is essential. There was a week where I had 4 dates, with 2 happening on the very same day. Result? Let’s not call it a total fucking bummer, but let’s go with a “valuable lesson��, ok? Why? One person stood out and everybody else faded into the shadows of absolute zero interest.

People who intrigue me are the ones that I feel a longing for. These are the people who have my instant and unconditional support as soon as they ask, these are the people I’m paying attention to and these are the people that I use as examples to follow in certain walks of life. So, there was one date who stood out and baaam, just like that, interest for anyone else vanished like lines from a broken phone screen at a rave. This one person turned out to be someone who exploits life just as I do, or even to a greater extent when the conditions are set. She likes adrenaline, playing around with thoughts not being afraid to be cut by some rough edges, going fast, views substances as mere tools, not like something good or bad and last but not least, she is the best looking, besides ticking a few other boxes. Did all the positives yielded a relationship or even a one night stand? Absolutely not. Was this a problem? Maybe from the perspective of my reproductive instincts, but from any other perspectives, it was interesting at worst and beneficiary at best. There are a bunch of people who tell good and bad Tinder date stories, however I haven’t heard a single one up to date that could match the level of renovate a bathroom on a tinder date. The bathroom turned out to be something both of us are showing with pride and I have learned about the ins and outs of tiling. It was also refreshing to see when a relationship between two people is based more in rational thinking than dragged by emotions, as it was the perfect contrast for my ex girlfriend who basically managed to turn a life of success into a quagmire by giving the executive powers to her unhinged emotions.

What have we learned?

When a bunch of things fail to be turned into happy factories, let it be hedonism, creativity, hard work, sport or other kinds of hobbies, all kick in the feeling of “geez, I did that, but the I have to get to the next level to evade boredom and constantly levelling up is hard work” so doing literally anything gets turned into a chore. Shitting and washing ass can feel like a chore, just like hanging out with friends can so one inevitably pulls out the good old question of “is my brain just unable to make the happy stuff and if so, what’s the purpose of living?”. After talking with quite a few people who contemplated suicide, or people who lost a loved one to suicide, one thing was clear from the get go, I will not hang myself. Based on the frequency of suicide by hanging I can only conclude that people either have a huge imbalance between being emotionally driven or just simply being very sick and incapable of any rational thought. Why? Death by suffocation combined with the rupture of the spinal cord sounds like the worst thing ever. On the other hand, driving into a solid concrete wall at any speed near 100 km/h is guaranteed death. Driving into a solid wall at 200 km/h is massive overkill and it could be proven as an accident which could make lives for relatives easier if tricky life insurance policies are in place. Finances aside, there are other policies in place for reasons like seeing the misery of those who get left behind to live and let all the people who I consider idiots to outlive me. Like seriously, if some have been labelled as idiots by some metrics of mine and they outlive me, it means that my metrics and the logic based on those metrics was flawed, proven by my very demise.

So yea, what do you do when relationships don’t work out, you can’t seem to obtain them and self destruction is also off the table? Well, since we’re all caged to some degree due to the pandemic and I already raised my alcohol tolerance to stellar levels, it was the damn time to get myself busy. To really dig into my job and to force myself to do tasks that I have just passed to someone saying I can’t hack it, to start reading stuff, to start learning stuff to start exercising and most important of all, to create routines. Routines are awesome. If nothing makes sense, at least that nothing is done on a regular basis and the very fact that nothing amounts to anything if done on a daily basis is kind of a feet and gives a chance to dopamine production.

I have also learned that having sex after a hiatus of 10 months doesn’t improve things as much as I thought, which is good, because it also means that things do not degrade a lot from prolonged abstinence.

Where to now? I guess I’ll just try focusing on myself rather than trying to please others by forcing myself into the “normie puzzle”. I’ll leave myself open for options, since it would be rather counterproductive to Sméagol hiss away anyone who tries to approach me, but it might happen nonetheless.

And one last bit before I cut this writing short at the 11th or so page... If you’re interested in me, do something. Playing the get hard card just plain simply won’t work. If I don’t get any feedback like in a 50-50 distribution style I’ll feel discouraged and move on. I’m also plain stupid when it comes to decoding slight hints (as I’ve hinted at multiple times in this text). Be blunt about it, otherwise it might go totally unnoticed. Last but not least, if you’re not interested, please don’t fekking smile at me and more importantly don’t touch me. I know, theoretically that people can be nice with one another without wanting more, but it doesn’t work for me. If you do that, I’ll reach out to spend more time together, you’ll gonna reject me and I’m going to throw you on the pile failed attempts that is getting ever more poisonous and has a high chance of totally wrecking my mood by the time someone genuinely interested would come about.

I might also try to get more disciplined since it took me more than five months to throw up these characters. I sincerely hope that I wasted your time in a way that some part of what I wrote resonates with you, maybe helps you or you found it amusing at least. Peace out.

Update: some things have changed since I wrote this piece, I got new pieces of information and the story of my craziest adventure got a healthy boost. However, if I were to re-write and edit this text in accordance to all those things, it is highly possible that it would never come out. As one of my favourite hot rod builder puts it “Lower your expectations until you reach your goals”.

[the-rock-nudes-blog]

An Asexual Defense on Bughead: Why you can still love even though you’re asexual.

You might ask, this is just a show on the CV network why do you even need to shitpost, bruh? Well, I'm tired of misrepresentation and mislabels. That's why. I fight for love, equality, and no judgment.

Disclaimer and truth: I’m not an ace and I’m not an aro. Currently, I am also single (have been for all my life, shocking yes) so I can’t say what being in a romantic relationship is like. I’m a prude – and believe it or not Internet: I’m a virgin.

So, I’m not claiming I know what it is. So, am I unqualified? Well, perhaps. But, that said – I know what love is. What really love is supposed to mean. I’ve dealt with it all my life and seen the type of love that is questioned intently by this show. Jason and Polly’s love until death they parted: infatuated with each other when it first started as a sexual drive to be near each other 24/7. Betty’s parent's destructive love where high school sweethearts turned sour when Hal forced Alice to take an abortion (and canon universe, that would've been a brother fun fact). Veronica’s parents lack love: Hermione just needs the money from Hiram and since he's in jail she thinks she can play innocent adultery. Jughead’s mom leaving because even though she loves FP she can’t be around him when he’s sinking into alcoholism - so she takes Jellybean too.

And, the most talked/debated/questioned/discussed relationship of all time: Bughead…because of questions on sexuality and representation in media.

I think, if possible, it would be interesting if Riverdale explores what Lili means by “Betty makes Jughead happy,” “Betty and Jughead make each other happy,” etc.. Not necessarily a sexual drive or fascination to have a level of intimacy that is body-to-body controlled. But, a nurturing and loving need to be beside each other in order to feel wholesome. It would be interesting to define love – Cole quickly corrected a commenter saying Jughead “makes love” instead of “fucks.” What does that entail for the series, hmm? No one is talking about that too.

Whilst making an asexual defense for Jughead, I want to personally extend this to females: particularly an asexual defense for Betty. Now before I get trashed, note that this asexualism should apply to girls (since I think girls can also be asexual).

Also, making Betty asexual as well (as a narrative) would be an interesting struggle and a cool propulsion for a Dark Betty plot. Before getting into that, let’s address this elephant in the room. Lili, in an interview a while ago, did say in an OTP battle: rather than Bughead vs. Barchie – she thought a Betty doesn’t need a man. Other interviews, she is asked whether she ships Beronica - she said that let fans ship, she is just the actress. And to be real frank: I think if Betty was in a better state, Lili probably is right! A lot of fans for this show are shipping and hurting each other through shipping poor little Betty. Rather than argue if Betty’s heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual, bi-curious, etc. – if she’s even sexualized or not. I’d like to acknowledge how amazing the cast and writers of Riverdale shaped Betty: that she is just a teenager girl who just wants to be loved for who she is and to equally give love back to that person. Because she doesn’t want to be lonely anymore.

Love wins. Sound familiar? Ask this: does an aromantic (who is defined not to experience romance or love or chemical driven feelings of longing/nurturing, etc.) not understand this? Is it fair to ask that question? Not attacking anyone at all, just getting one to think about others.

Also, I don’t know how true this is. But, I’ll go ahead and pose this as a questioning statement to follow up the earlier question: I’d think that just because you’re asexual doesn’t mean you don’t understand or can’t define sexual attraction to someone. “Passion” is just not driven by all the “chemicals that would lead the body to feel good.” And crassly stated: “whatever you’re type of kink is, sex-wise and sexing-time wise.”

That said I think this might be a great driving force for a Dark Betty if the writers take her that direction. Rather than she’s got a seductress and a curiosity to quell, she’s got a lot of pent of rage in her from how many times people have categorized her/MISLABELED her. And even more, hurt people she really loves. It appears to me that being an asexual Betty too would have very interesting validations of why she knows how to play the overtly sexualized character…just as a punisher and a justice seeker in the absolute wrong way. I guess what I’m trying to say is instead of playing the “LUST” card, she would be a “WRATH” card. I know, controversial! While one might be quick to say that Jughead is “WRATH” I think he’s more of a “PRIDE” card – since he didn’t want to openly admit who he was and his upbringing. This leaves Archie to “LUST” as his deadliest sin.

Anyways playing said cards, but NOT in your favor, the outcome would have “dire consequences” like what Jughead alluded to in episode 3. Maybe in the future seasons of this show, Betty could get into so much trouble with her recklessness that she earns herself juvi-time like what Jughead went through, perhaps filed harassments, or law-enforced investigations. That or she could lead her to decisions that she needs to speak with therapists – her ADD and Adderall usage, etc.

It seems that inner fire – so much that she forgets that she has that character inside her is emboldened ONLY because she it’s done to rage her opinionated lessons about how detrimental and harmful sex/fucking can become on her enemy. Rather than romance/love as a driving force, she’s willing to hurt anyone who hurts the ones she loves. This could be a great point for when she thought Chuck – who hurt/ridiculed/dominated/screwed with many women Betty cares about (i.e. Ethel and Veronica) because he felt powerful and it felt bodily good – was actually Jason who wrote Polly’s name in that disgusting book like he glorified that she was another notch in his bed).

Somehow her being around Jughead gives her clarity. She can think easier. Him being present makes her feel wanted and needed, but not in any way that’s not beautiful. This makes sense with her narrative on why she doesn’t push Jughead away. She could’ve said something in episode 4 when he just kissed her. Instead, she wants a relationship with him – she wants to be with him, and to walk with him. I think that’s the gist of what some Bughead shippers see. More than this though, it’s that both of them are weak and young. They don’t know anything else but Riverdale, and both connect because they love the charm of old Riverdale and because they know what love really is supposed to be. I’m a Bughead shipper (yes) and also not a Bughead shipper (in the way that most people are shipping that causes this type of stir-up in the Riverdale fandom). I'd define myself as: “I want these two cinnamon rolls to finally be happy and if they make each other happy because they love each other it’s good in the hood if not oh well writers decision of representation goodnight kthxbaiiii”

Representation is necessary. I think with how much attention human equality (the particular intricacies of members towards the LGBTQ community, aces and aros, etc.) are being refined and taken care of, it is important to clearly illustrate terms to what many toss precariously. Riverdale is doing this. With strong avocation to human rights and policies – politics themselves, Cole is right: people should keep asking and re-asking questions of whether Jughead is asexual or aromantic. Using fresh labels to define a person is tricky because no one wants to be mislabeled and misrepresented. Arguably, I think it’s better to be underrepresented than told you’re not who you are.

I think Chip Zdarsky’s illustration of Riverdale in the modern world is interesting and it sheds light on the difference of what love is and what the media is shaping love into. In other words, asking this question finally will bring light into what many people are throwing around and having constant fights about – defining the labels: that asexualism and aromanticism are different. That bicuriousity and bisexualism is actually different. And so forth.

Outside of just Jughead, and asexual defense for Betty (too) would also be beautiful if the narrative is written this way. Betty is struggling with holding herself together in midst of her family dramas between the Blossoms – Cheryl who constantly still bullies her all because of her grudge against Polly, a falling out romance with the boy she loved since he confessed he wanted to marry her in 2nd grade but openly admits he doesn’t love her at all, her parents literally splitting up. She needs to know where she is all the time, not who she is physically and bodily wanting.

Jughead, who is struggling to define his love. What is it, and why did he choose Betty? Is it just cause she's there? I mean, his family is gone. Nothing is set in stone, but everyone at least can acknowledge he’s scared of physical presence, physical contact, and physical commitment. He chooses to stay aloof and outsider-like. His way of relating to the world is sardonic. But, he wants to love and nurturing. He wants someone to think of family and love like Betty does. But, he’s scared of coming up short or not having enough to invest into. And that’s probably why people think he’ll push back a bit again to shield himself. Commitments being that many people HAVE let him down so much that he doesn’t want that tie to intimacy. Let their companionship (whatever it is) be that heals their heartbreak, rather than just physical attraction.

Not to say that there’s anything wrong with being aromantic but sexual, asexual and aromantic, or anything. Again labels and mislabels are important for young people to know so they won’t be afraid to define who they are. No judgments, just absolute awareness for these causes of not offending or hurting someone. But that’s just my two cents.

Maybe this is me overthinking and blissfully hoping. Betty has and always will be my favorite Riverdalian – ever since I grew up reading the comics (when I was a 7 year old who probably shouldn’t have been reading them). Jughead’s been interesting, and the dynamic between the two of them is something I’ve observed over all the digests, rewrites, comic diversions, etc. Protect my smalls from drowning and falling apart bitches.

Everyone is so invested in Jughead’s sexuality – what Cole thinks about it, what Lili thinks about it, what Roberto thinks about it, what Chip thinks about it: whether or not any of them support one side over the other. All responded in similar manners about this: that they’re torn. Additionally, I’ll ask a few more important ones on this subject. Is Jughead truly capable of romantic love? Does he truly romantically love Betty? Or is Betty a stand-in for his own personal weaknesses and demons? What about Betty? Does Betty love or could she love Jughead romantically? Or is she attracted to the idea of him because of the “word that begins with a letter B” be it just a physical need/support? I think this is what Cole and Lili want to explore when they were excited their characters connected.

So, don’t worry kids...words containing the prefix “a-“ still confuses a lot of adults in the English language to this day. Asexual, aromantic, amoral, asepsis (all means not what they are) and then you got words like ablaze, astride, etc. (which means that they are starting). That’s why we’ve got Teachers for America.

So, go on you citizen amongst 7 billion in this world. You can still love in your own way. Peace.