post-oneitis tales

[Deleted member 13591]

tbh
i heard her name a dozen times today
nobody knows we've drifted tbf / beefed (Everytime she's spoken to me for a month now, ive given her dead replies)
some chick today was legit saying about how she wouldn't tell me smth cause I 'am best friends with [oneitis] and tell her everything'
srs?
whyyyyyy
impeding my social efforts by existing...
kinda funny when she stares at me in public for no reason... like 6 times...
tbh
me and my mate walked behind her
and he was like
'whyyou walking so quick? to talk to [x]?'
and when i passed her

...
'nah bro why would i ever talk to [x]'
and she looked
I was laughing so hard after me and him separated


why is this town so small?
>randomly looks at me, and makes eye contact, so I start laughing

might be cause I have mogger colouring now tho?
i was complaining about it last week
but my skin is glowing tan now...

like this ahahhaha but more glowy

and my hair was mogger curly today cause washed it yesterday

 

[Acnno]

 

[Deleted member 13591]

Yo

hows the castor oil going?

 

[Deleted member 13591]

tbh
i heard her name a dozen times today
nobody knows we've drifted tbf / beefed (Everytime she's spoken to me for a month now, ive given her dead replies)
some chick today was legit saying about how she wouldn't tell me smth cause I 'am best friends with [oneitis] and tell her everything'
srs?
whyyyyyy
impeding my social efforts by existing...
kinda funny when she stares at me in public for no reason... like 6 times...
tbh
me and my mate walked behind her
and he was like
'whyyou walking so quick? to talk to [x]?'
and when i passed her

...
'nah bro why would i ever talk to [x]'
and she looked
I was laughing so hard after me and him separated


why is this town so small?
>randomly looks at me, and makes eye contact, so I start laughing

might be cause I have mogger colouring now tho?
i was complaining about it last week
but my skin is glowing tan now...
View attachment 1183899
like this ahahhaha but more glowy

and my hair was mogger curly today cause washed it yesterday

i say this
but ill prob get re-oneitits and simp for her next week

 

[Zias]

yeah this post hurts my brain. learn how to write pls

 

[Deleted member 13591]

yeah this post hurts my brain. learn how to write pls

...
best english grades in my year
'stream of consciousness' writing

 

[StrangerDanger]

'
I held my schedule for my senior year in my hands, all the while searching for that familiar shock of brown hair. Honestly, I had no idea why I was getting my hopes up. The improbability of "us" came down to simple math. I was Alexa Green. He was Reed Marlowe. It was simply illogical. But at the moment, it didn't matter to me.

I had his number in my phone, but since the brief conversation in July after the laser tag party, we hadn't texted each other. I turned my iPhone in my hands, biting my bottom lip.

"Alexa!" Grace's raspy voice was unmistakable. Suddenly, her thin arms were thrown around me in a tight embrace. "You look a little too good," she quipped, wriggling her eyebrows. "Who's the guy?"1

"Grace." Getting my voice to go flat wasn't particularly difficult. Still, my best friend wouldn't buy it.

"Okay, loser, don't tell me. I'll find out." Grace gave me a suspicious look, twirling a piece of her long blonde hair around her finger.

I forgot about Reed momentarily, happy to be back with my crew. Grace was the only one of my friends I'd really hung out with that summer. The others knew about my aversion to social scenery. So, today was the longest we'd been together in months.

I wasn't even thinking about Reed when he texted me during lunch, something I'm a little too proud of, since I'd been freaking out about what I would do when I saw him. He'd saved his number under the hot one from laser tag with the sunglasses and heart emojis, and it was too funny for me to bother changing it.

the hot one from laser tag: hey lexi5

My breath caught as I looked around the cafeteria for Reed. There he was, grinning at me across the room.

me: hi... i can't come up with a nickname for reed. sry

I watched him laugh at my text with embarrassing pride, feeling a goofy smile on my face.

the hot one from laser tag: im coming over there, i need to check if we have classes together.

I struggled to act cool as I watched him walk over to our table. Everything he did- walking, smiling, existing- was too sexy for comfort.

Grace followed the direction of my gaze, and her mouth popped open. "Why is he coming over here?" she whispered, half to herself and half to me.

Reed slid onto the bench next to me and gave me a look that made my breath short. As if he did it everyday, he wrapped his arm around my waist and winked a greeting to my dumbstruck friends.

"Hi, Lexi. How was your summer?" Reed asked, plucking one of my fries off my lunch tray.

My cheeks were impossibly warm. "Uh, good. Yours?"

"It was good. Hey, I need your schedule." I handed it to him.

He grinned. "English! I would've liked more, but at least there's one."

I realized I wasn't breathing. I felt like I was going to throw up with him touching me, with his arm slung around the small of his back. I couldn't do anything more than nod at him.

He chuckled again, and rose out of his seat. "Well, Lexi, I'll see you around." He grabbed my hand and shook it before leaving. It wasn't until then that I noticed everyone in the cafeteria looking at me. Thankfully, I couldn't dwell on that for long.

"What...? Alexa! Explain!" Summer Hardy, one of my other friends, hissed. She wrung her red ponytail excitedly.

"I don't know!" I replied helplessly, throwing my hands up. "What do you want me to say?"

"Something like, um, I don't know, 'I made friends with Reed Marlowe this summer'?!?"1

"Or more than friends," Grace added, winking with mock sensuality.

"It never came up," I said sheepishly. Jennifer, the mom-type in the group, smacked me upside the head.

"You should've brought it up, stupid," Jen huffed.

I sighed. "Whatever." I looked down at my plate. "Hey!"

me: u ate my fries?!!2

Reed winked at me across the room.

the hot one from laser tag: mmmmhmmmm they were sooo good lexi. thanks

I shook my head angrily.

me: NOT OKAY REED. NOT OKAY.

the hot one from laser tag: dont be a baby lil lexi1

I was way too angry to be charmed by the nickname.

me: just wait till english. ill crush u. nobody eats my food5

the hot one from laser tag: ok lil lexi whatever u say1

----------------

My next class was pre-calc with Summer, Jen and Grace all in class with me. All four of us sat in a square, with Grace behind me, and Summer and Jen across from us. We whispered at each other and gossiped while the teacher droned on about the syllabus.

Grace poked me from behind with her pen. "Alexa."

I turned around and poked her back with my pencil. "What, loser?" I whispered.

She rolled her eyes at me. "I am not a loser. But listen, don't look now, but Marin and Ava are staring at you. Dude, what happened this summer? Why are they suddenly noticing you?"

Marin Daley was the self proclaimed queen of our school. Her whole clique were heel-wearing hair-flipping model-types with killer attitudes. None of my friends could stand them. They were just so... arrogant. Marin figured out just how one controlled people like that. Ava Gossamer was one of those people she kept under her thumb, her closest friend. The slightly simple blonde would do whatever Marin wanted.

Marin's green eyes glinted as she stared at me. She, along with the five Barbie dolls around her, seemed to be assessing me. For what, I didn't know. I did know that I was uncomfortable.

I turned to Grace and shrugged. "Beats me. I just don't like it. I wish they would look somewhere else."

I watch Marin give me a tight-lipped smile, Barbie-fake as usual, and whisper something to the group. They glanced at me one last time, and then the staring was over.

I didn't know what to think, or what was going on, so I shoved the whole experience out of my mind and attempted to pay attention to the teacher.


I slouched on my bed later that night, swinging my legs off the side. Boredom had brought me to a new low. I stared at my phone, pathetically reading through my messages with the hot one from laser tag. Every now and then, I had to smile.

"Alexa!" I heard my mom call. My whole posture straightened. Mom's home! I pumped my fist in the air. Most of the time, my mom got home from work when I was already in bed.

I tore down the steps and wrapped my arms around her waist. "Hi, mom!" I know, my clinginess was childish, but I never got to see her. My mom worked at the emergency room as a nurse all day, and wasn't home until eleven or twelve, usually. For some reason, though, she was home hours early.

"Hey, babe," my mom said, ruffling my hair as I embraced her. "Listen, I'll be back in five. I'm going to pick up a pizza from Joey's for dinner."

I guided her to the couch, gently pushing her onto a cushion. "No, no, no, you just got home. Let me go. Chill for a while."1

Mom rolled her eyes, dropping the car keys and a twenty dollar bill in my hand. "Thank you, Alexa. And I want to hear all about the first day when you get home." She wasn't talking about academics. Mom was as entertained by soap-opera worthy high school drama as any teenager.

I got into the car and drove to the pizza parlor with the a wide grin on my face. Today had been excellent. Mom was home, Reed flirted with me, and I'd seen all my friends. I couldn't think of anything that could ruin it.5

The pizza parlor was especially busy today, being one of the more popular restaurants in town. I rocked on the heels of my white Converse as I waited in line to pick up the pizza my mom had already ordered (Joey's didn't do delivery). A waiter, seemingly overwhelmed by dinner rush by himself, raced around trying to take care of everyone.

the hot one from laser tag: lil lexiiiiiiiiiiiii

I chuckled. It seemed like that nickname was here to stay.

me: lil... reedie? idk2

the hot one from laser tag: no. definitely not1

me: ree ree?1

the hot one from laser tag: never.

me: reedie fresh? im not good at nicknames, ok?2

the hot one from laser tag: ill take reedie fresh if you promise not to call me that in public1

"Oof!"

My sneakers were soaked in ice cold liquid. I looked down at the overturned pitcher of Sprite, and then at the brown-haired boy scrambling to clean it up. I couldn't even be mad at him, he looked so helpless. I leaned down and offered my hand to help him up.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes were round with shock as I brought him to his feet. "I am so sorry, I really didn't mean to--"

"Hey, it's fine," I assured him, smiling. "Hey, do you go to my school or something? I feel like I've seen you." I peered at his face, but couldn't place his wide eyes and freckles.

"I'm Matt. Matt Carrigan." When his name didn't register, he shrugged. "I'm not the most memorable person to meet."

"Well, I definitely won't forget you now," I joked, gesturing to my shoes.

"I'm really sorry about that."

"Matt, chill, it's fine. Really."

Matthew looked at me appreciatively. He had the cutest freckles I'd ever seen, and an adorable flop of brown hair. I honestly wanted to pinch his cheeks, and I guess it showed on my face.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" Matt asked, inching away from me.

I blushed. "No reason." I spotted his phone, the top peeking out of his pocket. "Hey, can I see your phone for a sec?"

The change in his face was somewhere near comical as he handed it to me. He watched, dumbstruck, as I put my number in.

"I'll see you at school, probably, but if I don't, you'll text me, right?" I asked.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."5

I grabbed my pizza from the service counter and paid. With the box in my hand, I turned back to Matt.

"See ya!" I called to him, bumping the door open with my hip. My shoes squelched as I walked out the door. "Do you promise to text me?"4

Matthew leaned out the door and smiled at me. "Yeah, sure."

I waved at him one last time before I got in the car and drove home.

"Little Lexi." The singsong whisper came again, for the billionth time during my English class. It took a lot of expended effort to ignore Reed, but it got a little harder once he started throwing tiny balls of paper at the back of my head.

"Yo. Big Al!" he chuckled, and then there was another tiny ball of paper. I finally turned around and glared at him. He simply grinned in response, wide as ever.2

me: dude. srsly1

the hot one from laser tag: what r u doing tonight

me: u rly threw those papers at me to ask me that?

the hot one from laser tag: no. i was asking for the answer to number 12. i wouldve asked u this eventually tho1

I turned around just to roll my eyes at him. He shrugged.

me: I am NOT helping u cheat. im sleeping tomorrow night.

the hot one from laser tag: can I come?3

me: REED MARLOWE. STOP IT

He sent me a winky face, and when I turned around, there it was. The signature wink, punctuated with a blown kiss.

the hot one from laser tag: but srsly I want to take you out, lex14

My breath caught as I read and reread the message. He really wanted to take me out on a date? I struggled for my text to sound blasé, like I wasn't having a million mini heart-attacks.

me: ok. what time?1

the hot one from laser tag: around seven.

me: ok

How I managed to not melt before the end of English class, I dont know. I was shot through with excitement, fear and nerves. I was actually going on a date with Reed Marlowe.

---------------

"A DATE?!? ALEXA, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME EARLIER?"

I cringed at Grace's strident voice as it pierced my ears through the phone. "Jesus, Grace, he just asked me in English. I was still in shock until now." I leaned on the tiled wall in our school's bathroom and kneaded my temple. "God, Grace, what do I do? I don't do... dates. I have no clue what to wear, how to act... you guys have to help me."1

"Well," Jen said through the phone. "I can come over tonight."

Summer's voice was distant in the background. "I'm free."

"Okay, so we'll come over and walk you through. Is your mom going to be home? I'm thinking of an outfit, but you can't let her see you leave the house in it." I rolled my eyes at Grace's constant need to send me out of the house in crazy outfits.

"Scratch it, then. I texted her right before I texted you."

"Oh. Well, where are you going?"

"The movies. But, Grace, c'mon, don't overdress me. I'm not the hot one. That's you."

"Oh, whatever. I know the hot one is just the slutty one to you. You've got to embrace that part of yourself sometime."

"Well, not this time," I insisted firmly. "Look, Grace, let's let Summer pick the outfit. You can do my hair if you want, and Jen can mess around with my makeup."

"Awww," I heard Jen coo. "It's our little Alexa's first date! We're so proud."

"Jen."

"What? Hey, we gotta go, but we're coming over. Don't try to lock us out or anything. Grace'll just climb through the window."

"Wonderful." I rolled my eyes. Leaning onto the sink, my fingers gripped the cold porcelain as I let out a rush of breath.

What had I gotten myself into?1

~2

"Alexa, hold your eye open! I don't want to pinch you."

I desperately wanted Jen to get away from my eye with the eyelash curler, but I'd made it this far. Summer had coaxed me out of my sweater and jeans and traded for a swingy tiered dress, and Grace had managed to get beachy waves to stay in my hair.

I looked in the mirror and tried to act like I didn't like it. "I look like such a... girl."

"A welcome change, " Grace muttered under her breath.1

"Hey!"

"Alexa! Reed's here!" my mom called from.

"Oh, God." My eyes darted between my friends in panic. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"Not on my watch," Summer growled, pushing me out of my room. She dragged me to the top of the stairs, then escaped back to my room. "Good luck!" she singsonged, and slammed the door in my face. No turning back now.

"Alexa!" my mom called again. I took a deep breath and headed down the stairs.

Do you remember our first date? I do. We were going to the movies. My heart skipped a few beats and my stomach fluttered as I opened the door for you and saw those eyes sparkling at me. My mom looked at you suspiciously. I couldn't blame her. I couldn't even call you cute, because you oozed sex appeal. I could tell she expected you to act like any other hormonal teenage boy. I'm sure she thought you were the type to break hearts as she glared at you. But I thought, No, I know him. He's so sweet and nice and the way he's staring at me is making me very uncomfortable. So, I gently called my mom off.

As you slipped your elbow in the crook of my arm to lead me away... oh, God, everything you did gave me chills, and that, I couldn't explain. How was I supposed to get through the night having an aneurysm every time our skin touched? I think you felt me tense because you looked over and then you reached for my hand and held it. My heart nearly stopped right then. I was looking at our entwined hands and thinking, oh God my hands will sweat he'll think I'm weird he'll stop liking me he'll ditch me before we even get to the movie. You looked nervous, too, and you held my hand gingerly like china or a bird's wing, like something beautiful. We both looked at that pair of hands as if between them were life's secrets. I was antsy, so I talked to fill the silence of the car. You already knew I didn't like dresses, so I told you Summer made me wear it and how weird it was having to think about the position of your knees. You smiled at me. "You're so cute," you said, and told me you thought my dress was beautiful. My cheeks burned for the rest of the ride.4

For some reason, the walk into the movie theater was like walking a red carpet. I saw nearly ten people from school in the lobby, looking at us (well, mostly you), whispering about relationship statuses, about how mad your exes would be. I was mortified; you seemed not to notice at all.

The horror you'd planned to take me to (we shared an interest in that genre) was sold out along with everything else worth seeing. But we couldn't not see a movie, you reasoned, so you chose a cheesy rom-com.

I felt safer once we were in the darkness of the theater. There was a bucket of popcorn and two sodas between us, and in the absence of light you couldn't so easily spot my blemishes.
I'd never watched a romantic comedy with other people before. The crying and hysterical laughing always happened behind closed doors, on my bed swaddled in sweats and a soft tartan blanket. I didn't cry at this movie (too predictable) but it was still awkward going on a date watching other people suck face. The distance between our faces was around a foot, meanwhile, the onscreen lovers' faces mashed together in a kind of messy intimacy I'd never experienced. I took careful mental notes for a situation in which I ended up kissing you. I took in the twists of the actress's head, her fluid body movements, where your hands were supposed to go.

"Never do it like that." I turned sharply to the sound of your whisper. You'd seen me inspecting them! Blood rushed to my cheeks, but you just grinned."She's too fast."3

I said, "Oh," the only thing I could say. A low chuckle escaped your lips as you ruffled my hair. Without any of the usual preliminary sneakiness, you draped your arm over my shoulder, like it was nothing. My breath caught in my chest. In that moment, I wasn't even breathing, and we were silent. I was incredibly nervous with the touching and the making out going on in front of us, so I thought, fill silent moments with food, so I reached my hand into the popcorn bucket. I brushed the rough tips of your fingers as I tried scooping up a few kernels. I was still, and so were you. And then, you were holding my buttery hand.

I thought, why did he do that? and then, why didn't I think of that? I thought, what if he hates girls with short nails, or what if I get a pimple on my hand from the grease? I tried to figure out, as the movie progressed, how this experience was for you. On this end, it was wonderful. Our hands stayed buried in there until the house lights turned on and we had to leave.

You drove me back home in comfortable silence. Nervously, I applied chapstick, because the rumor was that you always kissed on the first date, and you hadn't yet. I clasped and unclasped my hands in anticipation as we neared my house. On my front porch, you separated my hands and held both of them. "I'll see you Monday, little Lexi." You kissed me on the cheek.

You left a very confused Alexa on the porch and drove away, just like that.

I wasn't sure whether I was crushed that you hadn't kissed me for real, or elated that I was different.Soft fingers of light filtered through the curtains on Saturday morning. I smiled sleepily to myself, and touched my cheek gingerly, trying to grasp the feeling during those moments when his lips were there.

I stretched and crept downstairs, careful not to wake my mom. Quietly, I made myself toast and Nutella, and was eating it when my phone buzzed.

matt: alexa?3

I grinned, pleasantly surprised. I hadn't expected Matt to actually text me.

me: ah, the klutz can keep a promise

matt: stop reminding me!! what r u doing today1

me: sleeping.

matt: feel like doing something fun?2

I was infinitely pleased. I thought Matt would want nothing to do with me, or be to shy to build a friendship. I texted him that I didn't see why not, and he gave me directions to his house.

My eyebrows rose in surprise as I pulled into Matt's driveway. The house was palatial, with tall hedges around it's white walls and pillars. "Jeez," I heard myself whisper. Littered around the driveway and lawn were toys in various shades of pink: pink bikes, pink helmets, and all types of Barbie memorabilia. I knocked on the pine double doors, and almost immediately, they were swung open.

The three girls at the door each looked about six years old. I didn't know Matt had sisters, I thought, but they were obviously related. The girls had the same chocolatey brown hair, thick and braided into pigtails, and eyes in varying shades of green.

There was no formality with these girls. They looked me up and down critically. "Who are you?" one of them asked. She planted her hands on her hips. I found myself being dragged to the couch as the other two grabbed my hands and pulled me through the door.

"Um, I'm-- what are you doing -- I'm Alexa." I tried to wiggle away as the girls started messing with my hair. "Matt? A little help?"1

"Oh, God, guys, get off her! I told you not to answer the door to strangers... Alexa, I'm sorry about... them."

"Why is she here?" one demanded.

Mumbling so his sisters couldn't hear, Matt told me, "They're not used to much company." To them, he announced, "This is my friend, Alexa. Alexa, this is Mya, Katie and Ariana. The triplets."3

They appraised me with doubt. "She is here to see you?" Ariana asked skeptically.

"You didn't tell me you had sisters!" I whispered.

Matt rolled his eyes. "I wasn't planning on it," he muttered, before herding me out the door. "Bye guys!" he called over his shoulder. He led me to his car as their shouts faded behind him.

"Well, Matt, aren't you just full of surprises! I met you bussing tables, but then... that." I waved my hand in the general direction of his house.

"Joey's a family friend, I'm always there to help out when they get shortstaffed," Matt explained, dismissively. "So," he began, stopping at a red light and steepling his fingers, sending a creepy grin my way. "I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you today..."

"Oh God," I half-mumbled.

"I'm just kidding. There's a new trampoline park near Cavalry street and I--"

"Hold on. A what park?"

An excited flush took over Matt's face under his freckles. "You've never been? Ah, you haven't lived!"

The name alone made the place sound like a blast, so I was fidgeting with excitement by the time Matt's car pulled up to the building.

The place was really just rectangular trampolines, lined up like a huge feild. Around the perimeter of the trampolines were more trampolines, positioned like slanted walls. I shimmied excitedly, and Matt patted my back condescendingly. "Simmer down, child," he told me, rolling his eyes. He bought me my rental helmet and shoes, which made me look so nerdy, I wanted to hide my face. But no one here besides me or Matt was over twelve, besides parents.

I was a lot less graceful than I thought I'd be. It was like walking in a bouncy castle, with everyone popcorning me when I tried to walk. Matt shook his head at me when my ankles gave out, walking steadily as if we were on solid ground.

"Alexa, you really suck at this," he told me honestly, helping me up and grimacing. "Sorry."

I glared at him but took his hand. I'd landed on my back (again) as I failed at landing a front flip (again). "Shut up."

By the second hour, Matt had me bouncing off the slanted walls and somewhat successfully doing front flips. My thighs burned. Who knew trampoline parks were such a work out?1

Matt's energy was unbelievably boundless. I, on the other hand, flopped onto my stomach exhaustedly. "Mnnmhmn," I groaned, whining like a tired toddler. Matt shook his head-- he'd been doing that a lot lately-- and gave me a piggyback ride out to his car. I fell asleep in the passenger seat, and when I woke up we were at McDonald's. "Chicken nuggets," were my first words as my eyes opened. Matt didn't stop hysterically laughing until we were in line in the restaurant.

We sat at a booth to share a twenty-piece, in contented silence. "So--" he began.

I held my hand up to stop him. "Nuggets first."

Matt rolled his eyes. "I don't take orders from wierdos with chipmunk cheeks."

I finished chewing after choking on laughter. "Why didn't you tell me you had sisters, Matty-boy?"

Matt smiled and shrugged. "Never came up. Hard to forget, I know. Again, sorry about that," he said self I deprecatingly.

I shook my head. "Stop apologizing, for Christ's sake."4

Matt chuckled again. "Well, maybe you could stop giving me reasons," he said, earning a stuck-out tongue from me.

"Oh yeah," he said, nodding. "Real mature." Matt reached over to flick me on the head. "So, tell me about yourself, Green."

I shrugged. "Not much to tell. My best friend is Netflix. I live with my mom. No hidden family," I said pointedly.3


"Sorry, okay?"

I grinned and stuffed another nugget in my mouth, savoring all the artificial obviously-not-chicken yumminess. "How about you Mr. Large House? What's your story?"1

"I didn't exactly get a story from you, but whatever. Um, well, before I moved here, my mom and dad had started a big organic-foods business. You know, the hippy-dippy stuff is big out there with the hipsters and all."

I rose my eyebrow at him.

"I'm just kidding, stupid. But it's pretty big out there. So, we moved when the girls were born, and my parents run Carrigan foods remotely. So, yeah. That's it."

I nodded, taking it all in. "Cool, cool."

We were interrupted by a snobby blonde hostess. "Um, we have a loitering policy..." She trailed off, and I rolled my eyes. I didn't know McDonald's had policies, ever. But Matt and I left, and he drove me home.1

I grinned back at Matt, waiting in his car, when I was at my front door. "Adios, Matty-boy. Thanks for a great day!"

Matt faux-saluted me. "Bye, Alexa. It's been real!"

I shook my head at his dorky goodbye and unlocked my door. I slammed the door behind me, utterly exhausted.10
There was a teacher's workshop on Friday, so we had the day off. As was tradition at our school, there would be parties in spades on Thursday night, one of which my friends and I were invited to. The three of them were all for a night of revelry. I, however, took a bit more convincing.

"Alexa, please! It won't be any fun without you," Summer pleaded.

"Oh, gee, a party without Debbie Downer the man-girl," I said sarcastically. Grace snorted. "I'm not going. I've had enough socializing."

"Come on," Jen whined. "Live a little, you turtle-person." This earned another snort from Grace.

I was saved by the bell, and off to English. I slid into the seat next to Reed and smiled at him, still blushing a bit, reveling in the magic of our date. He smiled back, cute as ever.1

Our teacher, Mr. Hall, liked to have us read aloud when we worked as a class. Our first book was Romeo and Juliet. I know, how cliche. But honestly, I loved the story, even though we'd already went over it freshman year.

Reed and I were the only ones not waving our hands in the air to read parts, so of course, Reed was Romeo. I wasn't really sure whether I should've tried really hard not to be Juliet, or jumped at the chance. As it turned out, I didn't have much say.

"I think Lexi would love to read for Juliet," Reed called out, oozing faux-innocence. I sent him a cutting glare as Mr. Hall gave me Juliet's lines.

"Act one, scene five, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Hall announced. "The masque at the Capulets' home."1

Class readings like this made me cringe, and wonder how some people made it to senior year. They read like they were illiterate, and I found myself near nodding off as we began. Monotone voices are beyond depressing.

Then, Reed started to speak.

At first, you could tell he was trying to pretend he wasn't into it. But there was something about the way he read, something amazing and beautiful and charming. Without even trying, he read better than anyone in the class. Why was he still using the bad boy thing to get girls, when every female in the room was swooning just listening to him reading words out loud?

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." he read. Suddenly, I could feel his eyes on me. Even with someone else's words, Reed was giving me goosebumps. I ignored everyone else talking; just feeling the warmth of his gaze sent my mind reeling.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." I found the courage to look at him, and I was trapped in his stare. I felt his hand go around mine.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." I struggled to make my voice even, but I had no idea what I was saying. My cheeks reddened as the words came out haltingly, nowhere near as smooth as Reed's. No one seemed to notice.

As we went through the lines, I could feel everyone's eyes on us. I dared to look around during one of Reed's lines, and there was Marin Daley. She and Ava were the only ones not swooning over the intensity of Reed's performance. Instead, they were staring daggers at me. Again.

The scene ended as I was asking the Nurse who Romeo was, when the bell rang. Reed was still holding my hand, and continued to as he led me out of class. I was walking on air, no matter how hard Marin Daley wanted to stare at me. I was almost sure Reed was mine.

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He walked me to my locker, and we didn't speak as I got my stuff. Whenever I looked up, he was just smiling dopily at me. I quirked my eyebrow up. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," I teased him. He complied, taking out his phone. I cheesed at the camera.

Reed shook his head, staring at the photo. "Adorable. Wallpaper-worthy, I'd say." He showed me his new wallpaper, a Gremlin-like version of me. I rolled my eyes.6

"You need a better picture of me," I sighed.

"I could get one," Reed replied, hopefully, "If you'd come to Anna's party on Thursday with me. Three little birdies told me you weren't gonna go."

My friends were the worst.1

Reed took my hand again. "I know what you're going to say. Just say the opposite. For me?"7

Well. Now I couldn't say no.3

—-

There wasn't any convincing my mom to let me out tonight; she was working late. I threw on my cutest LBD (that's little black dress, for those of you fortunate enough not to have friends who shove fashion factoids down your throat) and a pair of matching heels that I thankfully didn't fall in walking out of the house. I fluffed my curled hair and peeked out the window at the driveway. Empty, except for my car. Where was Reed?

I sent a few texts, but he never answered. An hour and a half passed, and I was tired of waiting. In a huff, I got into my car. I texted Reed that I had left without him, but of course, he didn't reply.2

Anna's house wasn't all that big, but she had a huge pool, a deck, and a killer sound system, so she'd got a nice turnout. The house thrummed on the outside with bass from the party music.

"Darling, you made it!" Summer explained, very faux-Hollywood and obviously drunk. She gave me kisses on both cheeks.

"Nice legs," Jen teased, coming up from behind and slapping my butt. My friends did this all the time, but it still made me blush from embarrassment. To them, it was nothing. Just another form of PDA.

"Lexi-child, you look like a guuuurl." Grace was slumped over Jen's shoulder, even more white-girl-wasted than Summer, in a black bikini and a borrowed sombrero. She poked my boob. I slapped her hand away.

"What is it with you guys and touching me?" I grumbled good-naturedly. Grace shrugged, smiling with crinkled eyes.

"Where's Reed?" Summer hiccuped. I shrugged.

"Late. I had to drive myself. But Matt just texted me that he'll be here in a bit, so you guys'll meet him," I replied.

Grace had started poking my cheek and staring at it with wonder. Jen rolled her eyes.

"Your friends are making idiots of themselves."

"They're yours, too, Jenny."

"I don't claim these," Jen joked, wrinkling her nose. We laughed, and our stupefied friends just giggled obliviously.

"Alexa, hey," Matt called. He wore a white button down and navy shorts, typical party clothes for the kids around here (except his were much more expensive-looking). He looked good, but also uncomfortable. I could tell this wasn't really his scene.

"Matt! I'm so glad you came." I led him over to the slovenly pile that consisted of my friends. "I hate for you to meet them when they're, uh... like this, but this is Jen, the not-drunk one."

Jen waved, a hard task with Grace holding onto her for dear life.

"Hi, Jen," Matt greeted her, giving a salute. "Um, who are..."

"Grace and Summer. Don't ask."

Anna threw a good party, I'll give her that. I usually only come to parties because Grace and Summer always get drunk and need a designated driver. I never really enjoy parties, but I had fun at this one. I almost forgot that Reed still hadn't texted me. Almost.

I don't know why this happened, because I'm usually not the type to make such an utterly dumb decision, but I wandered upstairs. It only took around two minutes for some drunk pervert to push me up against the wall and start breathing on my neck with a sweaty hand plastered against my face. My screams were under his right hand, and the left squeezed my butt.1

"Are those screams for me?" he sneered, his sour breath fanning across my face.
I rolled my eyes, spit a loogie in his hand, and then bit him. "Get your hands off me!" I grunted, pushing the guy away. His cries were of disgust mixed with pain. I walked away feeling so cool, with a smirk on my face.

And then, I tripped on the stairs.

I heard people get louder as I tumbled; some shouting expletives, others wondering if I was okay, and the vast majority laughing. I didn't even want to take my head out from its contorted position as I slowed down and stopped in the middle of the staircase. The whole party got quiet for like, thirty seconds, but then the people lost interest, too drunk, high or just having to much fun to care.

"Hey, Alexa? Are you okay?" Matt. I was relieved to see him, and let him help me up.

"If by 'okay' you mean bruised and mortified, yeah, I'm fine."

"Who's the klutz now?" he chuckled, then squinted at me. "What were you — should I even ask?"

In the tiniest voice possible, I muttered, "Running away from a rapist."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" He chuckled and shook his head again in disbelief. I was forever getting that head-shake.

"Are you saying I'm rape-able, Matthew Carrigan?" I asked, feigning anger.

Matt's cheeks reddened so quickly, I thought his head was going to explode. It didn't.

"Oh, my God. Isn't that your friend? She looks terrible."

Grace was still in that skimpy bikini, but right now she didn't look quite as glamorous. She just looked pathetic. She was curled up in the corner, eyes glued to her phone as tears spilled out of them.

"Oh, honey."

Gracie looked up and sniffed. "Alexa. I need you to drive to the, um, the hospital." She spoke slowly, like a kid learning how to read. She was drunk beyond belief.

"Why? What's wrong with you, are you hurt?" I asked. I offered my hand to her, but she ignored it, shivering in her outfit (or lack thereof).

"No," Grace slurred. "It's not me." She looked at me with her forlorn blue eyes welling up with tears that were already leaving shiny tracks on her cheeks. "It's not me," she repeated, her voice cracking.

"It's my Daddy."

 

[volcelfatcel]

View attachment 1183922'
I held my schedule for my senior year in my hands, all the while searching for that familiar shock of brown hair. Honestly, I had no idea why I was getting my hopes up. The improbability of "us" came down to simple math. I was Alexa Green. He was Reed Marlowe. It was simply illogical. But at the moment, it didn't matter to me.

I had his number in my phone, but since the brief conversation in July after the laser tag party, we hadn't texted each other. I turned my iPhone in my hands, biting my bottom lip.

"Alexa!" Grace's raspy voice was unmistakable. Suddenly, her thin arms were thrown around me in a tight embrace. "You look a little too good," she quipped, wriggling her eyebrows. "Who's the guy?"1

"Grace." Getting my voice to go flat wasn't particularly difficult. Still, my best friend wouldn't buy it.

"Okay, loser, don't tell me. I'll find out." Grace gave me a suspicious look, twirling a piece of her long blonde hair around her finger.

I forgot about Reed momentarily, happy to be back with my crew. Grace was the only one of my friends I'd really hung out with that summer. The others knew about my aversion to social scenery. So, today was the longest we'd been together in months.

I wasn't even thinking about Reed when he texted me during lunch, something I'm a little too proud of, since I'd been freaking out about what I would do when I saw him. He'd saved his number under the hot one from laser tag with the sunglasses and heart emojis, and it was too funny for me to bother changing it.

the hot one from laser tag: hey lexi5

My breath caught as I looked around the cafeteria for Reed. There he was, grinning at me across the room.

me: hi... i can't come up with a nickname for reed. sry

I watched him laugh at my text with embarrassing pride, feeling a goofy smile on my face.

the hot one from laser tag: im coming over there, i need to check if we have classes together.

I struggled to act cool as I watched him walk over to our table. Everything he did- walking, smiling, existing- was too sexy for comfort.

Grace followed the direction of my gaze, and her mouth popped open. "Why is he coming over here?" she whispered, half to herself and half to me.

Reed slid onto the bench next to me and gave me a look that made my breath short. As if he did it everyday, he wrapped his arm around my waist and winked a greeting to my dumbstruck friends.

"Hi, Lexi. How was your summer?" Reed asked, plucking one of my fries off my lunch tray.

My cheeks were impossibly warm. "Uh, good. Yours?"

"It was good. Hey, I need your schedule." I handed it to him.

He grinned. "English! I would've liked more, but at least there's one."

I realized I wasn't breathing. I felt like I was going to throw up with him touching me, with his arm slung around the small of his back. I couldn't do anything more than nod at him.

He chuckled again, and rose out of his seat. "Well, Lexi, I'll see you around." He grabbed my hand and shook it before leaving. It wasn't until then that I noticed everyone in the cafeteria looking at me. Thankfully, I couldn't dwell on that for long.

"What...? Alexa! Explain!" Summer Hardy, one of my other friends, hissed. She wrung her red ponytail excitedly.

"I don't know!" I replied helplessly, throwing my hands up. "What do you want me to say?"

"Something like, um, I don't know, 'I made friends with Reed Marlowe this summer'?!?"1

"Or more than friends," Grace added, winking with mock sensuality.

"It never came up," I said sheepishly. Jennifer, the mom-type in the group, smacked me upside the head.

"You should've brought it up, stupid," Jen huffed.

I sighed. "Whatever." I looked down at my plate. "Hey!"

me: u ate my fries?!!2

Reed winked at me across the room.

the hot one from laser tag: mmmmhmmmm they were sooo good lexi. thanks

I shook my head angrily.

me: NOT OKAY REED. NOT OKAY.

the hot one from laser tag: dont be a baby lil lexi1

I was way too angry to be charmed by the nickname.

me: just wait till english. ill crush u. nobody eats my food5

the hot one from laser tag: ok lil lexi whatever u say1

----------------

My next class was pre-calc with Summer, Jen and Grace all in class with me. All four of us sat in a square, with Grace behind me, and Summer and Jen across from us. We whispered at each other and gossiped while the teacher droned on about the syllabus.

Grace poked me from behind with her pen. "Alexa."

I turned around and poked her back with my pencil. "What, loser?" I whispered.

She rolled her eyes at me. "I am not a loser. But listen, don't look now, but Marin and Ava are staring at you. Dude, what happened this summer? Why are they suddenly noticing you?"

Marin Daley was the self proclaimed queen of our school. Her whole clique were heel-wearing hair-flipping model-types with killer attitudes. None of my friends could stand them. They were just so... arrogant. Marin figured out just how one controlled people like that. Ava Gossamer was one of those people she kept under her thumb, her closest friend. The slightly simple blonde would do whatever Marin wanted.

Marin's green eyes glinted as she stared at me. She, along with the five Barbie dolls around her, seemed to be assessing me. For what, I didn't know. I did know that I was uncomfortable.

I turned to Grace and shrugged. "Beats me. I just don't like it. I wish they would look somewhere else."

I watch Marin give me a tight-lipped smile, Barbie-fake as usual, and whisper something to the group. They glanced at me one last time, and then the staring was over.

I didn't know what to think, or what was going on, so I shoved the whole experience out of my mind and attempted to pay attention to the teacher.


I slouched on my bed later that night, swinging my legs off the side. Boredom had brought me to a new low. I stared at my phone, pathetically reading through my messages with the hot one from laser tag. Every now and then, I had to smile.

"Alexa!" I heard my mom call. My whole posture straightened. Mom's home! I pumped my fist in the air. Most of the time, my mom got home from work when I was already in bed.

I tore down the steps and wrapped my arms around her waist. "Hi, mom!" I know, my clinginess was childish, but I never got to see her. My mom worked at the emergency room as a nurse all day, and wasn't home until eleven or twelve, usually. For some reason, though, she was home hours early.

"Hey, babe," my mom said, ruffling my hair as I embraced her. "Listen, I'll be back in five. I'm going to pick up a pizza from Joey's for dinner."

I guided her to the couch, gently pushing her onto a cushion. "No, no, no, you just got home. Let me go. Chill for a while."1

Mom rolled her eyes, dropping the car keys and a twenty dollar bill in my hand. "Thank you, Alexa. And I want to hear all about the first day when you get home." She wasn't talking about academics. Mom was as entertained by soap-opera worthy high school drama as any teenager.

I got into the car and drove to the pizza parlor with the a wide grin on my face. Today had been excellent. Mom was home, Reed flirted with me, and I'd seen all my friends. I couldn't think of anything that could ruin it.5

The pizza parlor was especially busy today, being one of the more popular restaurants in town. I rocked on the heels of my white Converse as I waited in line to pick up the pizza my mom had already ordered (Joey's didn't do delivery). A waiter, seemingly overwhelmed by dinner rush by himself, raced around trying to take care of everyone.

the hot one from laser tag: lil lexiiiiiiiiiiiii

I chuckled. It seemed like that nickname was here to stay.

me: lil... reedie? idk2

the hot one from laser tag: no. definitely not1

me: ree ree?1

the hot one from laser tag: never.

me: reedie fresh? im not good at nicknames, ok?2

the hot one from laser tag: ill take reedie fresh if you promise not to call me that in public1

"Oof!"

My sneakers were soaked in ice cold liquid. I looked down at the overturned pitcher of Sprite, and then at the brown-haired boy scrambling to clean it up. I couldn't even be mad at him, he looked so helpless. I leaned down and offered my hand to help him up.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes were round with shock as I brought him to his feet. "I am so sorry, I really didn't mean to--"

"Hey, it's fine," I assured him, smiling. "Hey, do you go to my school or something? I feel like I've seen you." I peered at his face, but couldn't place his wide eyes and freckles.

"I'm Matt. Matt Carrigan." When his name didn't register, he shrugged. "I'm not the most memorable person to meet."

"Well, I definitely won't forget you now," I joked, gesturing to my shoes.

"I'm really sorry about that."

"Matt, chill, it's fine. Really."

Matthew looked at me appreciatively. He had the cutest freckles I'd ever seen, and an adorable flop of brown hair. I honestly wanted to pinch his cheeks, and I guess it showed on my face.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" Matt asked, inching away from me.

I blushed. "No reason." I spotted his phone, the top peeking out of his pocket. "Hey, can I see your phone for a sec?"

The change in his face was somewhere near comical as he handed it to me. He watched, dumbstruck, as I put my number in.

"I'll see you at school, probably, but if I don't, you'll text me, right?" I asked.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."5

I grabbed my pizza from the service counter and paid. With the box in my hand, I turned back to Matt.

"See ya!" I called to him, bumping the door open with my hip. My shoes squelched as I walked out the door. "Do you promise to text me?"4

Matthew leaned out the door and smiled at me. "Yeah, sure."

I waved at him one last time before I got in the car and drove home.

"Little Lexi." The singsong whisper came again, for the billionth time during my English class. It took a lot of expended effort to ignore Reed, but it got a little harder once he started throwing tiny balls of paper at the back of my head.

"Yo. Big Al!" he chuckled, and then there was another tiny ball of paper. I finally turned around and glared at him. He simply grinned in response, wide as ever.2

me: dude. srsly1

the hot one from laser tag: what r u doing tonight

me: u rly threw those papers at me to ask me that?

the hot one from laser tag: no. i was asking for the answer to number 12. i wouldve asked u this eventually tho1

I turned around just to roll my eyes at him. He shrugged.

me: I am NOT helping u cheat. im sleeping tomorrow night.

the hot one from laser tag: can I come?3

me: REED MARLOWE. STOP IT

He sent me a winky face, and when I turned around, there it was. The signature wink, punctuated with a blown kiss.

the hot one from laser tag: but srsly I want to take you out, lex14

My breath caught as I read and reread the message. He really wanted to take me out on a date? I struggled for my text to sound blasé, like I wasn't having a million mini heart-attacks.

me: ok. what time?1

the hot one from laser tag: around seven.

me: ok

How I managed to not melt before the end of English class, I dont know. I was shot through with excitement, fear and nerves. I was actually going on a date with Reed Marlowe.

---------------

"A DATE?!? ALEXA, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME EARLIER?"

I cringed at Grace's strident voice as it pierced my ears through the phone. "Jesus, Grace, he just asked me in English. I was still in shock until now." I leaned on the tiled wall in our school's bathroom and kneaded my temple. "God, Grace, what do I do? I don't do... dates. I have no clue what to wear, how to act... you guys have to help me."1

"Well," Jen said through the phone. "I can come over tonight."

Summer's voice was distant in the background. "I'm free."

"Okay, so we'll come over and walk you through. Is your mom going to be home? I'm thinking of an outfit, but you can't let her see you leave the house in it." I rolled my eyes at Grace's constant need to send me out of the house in crazy outfits.

"Scratch it, then. I texted her right before I texted you."

"Oh. Well, where are you going?"

"The movies. But, Grace, c'mon, don't overdress me. I'm not the hot one. That's you."

"Oh, whatever. I know the hot one is just the slutty one to you. You've got to embrace that part of yourself sometime."

"Well, not this time," I insisted firmly. "Look, Grace, let's let Summer pick the outfit. You can do my hair if you want, and Jen can mess around with my makeup."

"Awww," I heard Jen coo. "It's our little Alexa's first date! We're so proud."

"Jen."

"What? Hey, we gotta go, but we're coming over. Don't try to lock us out or anything. Grace'll just climb through the window."

"Wonderful." I rolled my eyes. Leaning onto the sink, my fingers gripped the cold porcelain as I let out a rush of breath.

What had I gotten myself into?1

~2

"Alexa, hold your eye open! I don't want to pinch you."

I desperately wanted Jen to get away from my eye with the eyelash curler, but I'd made it this far. Summer had coaxed me out of my sweater and jeans and traded for a swingy tiered dress, and Grace had managed to get beachy waves to stay in my hair.

I looked in the mirror and tried to act like I didn't like it. "I look like such a... girl."

"A welcome change, " Grace muttered under her breath.1

"Hey!"

"Alexa! Reed's here!" my mom called from.

"Oh, God." My eyes darted between my friends in panic. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"Not on my watch," Summer growled, pushing me out of my room. She dragged me to the top of the stairs, then escaped back to my room. "Good luck!" she singsonged, and slammed the door in my face. No turning back now.

"Alexa!" my mom called again. I took a deep breath and headed down the stairs.

Do you remember our first date? I do. We were going to the movies. My heart skipped a few beats and my stomach fluttered as I opened the door for you and saw those eyes sparkling at me. My mom looked at you suspiciously. I couldn't blame her. I couldn't even call you cute, because you oozed sex appeal. I could tell she expected you to act like any other hormonal teenage boy. I'm sure she thought you were the type to break hearts as she glared at you. But I thought, No, I know him. He's so sweet and nice and the way he's staring at me is making me very uncomfortable. So, I gently called my mom off.

As you slipped your elbow in the crook of my arm to lead me away... oh, God, everything you did gave me chills, and that, I couldn't explain. How was I supposed to get through the night having an aneurysm every time our skin touched? I think you felt me tense because you looked over and then you reached for my hand and held it. My heart nearly stopped right then. I was looking at our entwined hands and thinking, oh God my hands will sweat he'll think I'm weird he'll stop liking me he'll ditch me before we even get to the movie. You looked nervous, too, and you held my hand gingerly like china or a bird's wing, like something beautiful. We both looked at that pair of hands as if between them were life's secrets. I was antsy, so I talked to fill the silence of the car. You already knew I didn't like dresses, so I told you Summer made me wear it and how weird it was having to think about the position of your knees. You smiled at me. "You're so cute," you said, and told me you thought my dress was beautiful. My cheeks burned for the rest of the ride.4

For some reason, the walk into the movie theater was like walking a red carpet. I saw nearly ten people from school in the lobby, looking at us (well, mostly you), whispering about relationship statuses, about how mad your exes would be. I was mortified; you seemed not to notice at all.

The horror you'd planned to take me to (we shared an interest in that genre) was sold out along with everything else worth seeing. But we couldn't not see a movie, you reasoned, so you chose a cheesy rom-com.

I felt safer once we were in the darkness of the theater. There was a bucket of popcorn and two sodas between us, and in the absence of light you couldn't so easily spot my blemishes.
I'd never watched a romantic comedy with other people before. The crying and hysterical laughing always happened behind closed doors, on my bed swaddled in sweats and a soft tartan blanket. I didn't cry at this movie (too predictable) but it was still awkward going on a date watching other people suck face. The distance between our faces was around a foot, meanwhile, the onscreen lovers' faces mashed together in a kind of messy intimacy I'd never experienced. I took careful mental notes for a situation in which I ended up kissing you. I took in the twists of the actress's head, her fluid body movements, where your hands were supposed to go.

"Never do it like that." I turned sharply to the sound of your whisper. You'd seen me inspecting them! Blood rushed to my cheeks, but you just grinned."She's too fast."3

I said, "Oh," the only thing I could say. A low chuckle escaped your lips as you ruffled my hair. Without any of the usual preliminary sneakiness, you draped your arm over my shoulder, like it was nothing. My breath caught in my chest. In that moment, I wasn't even breathing, and we were silent. I was incredibly nervous with the touching and the making out going on in front of us, so I thought, fill silent moments with food, so I reached my hand into the popcorn bucket. I brushed the rough tips of your fingers as I tried scooping up a few kernels. I was still, and so were you. And then, you were holding my buttery hand.

I thought, why did he do that? and then, why didn't I think of that? I thought, what if he hates girls with short nails, or what if I get a pimple on my hand from the grease? I tried to figure out, as the movie progressed, how this experience was for you. On this end, it was wonderful. Our hands stayed buried in there until the house lights turned on and we had to leave.

You drove me back home in comfortable silence. Nervously, I applied chapstick, because the rumor was that you always kissed on the first date, and you hadn't yet. I clasped and unclasped my hands in anticipation as we neared my house. On my front porch, you separated my hands and held both of them. "I'll see you Monday, little Lexi." You kissed me on the cheek.

You left a very confused Alexa on the porch and drove away, just like that.

I wasn't sure whether I was crushed that you hadn't kissed me for real, or elated that I was different.Soft fingers of light filtered through the curtains on Saturday morning. I smiled sleepily to myself, and touched my cheek gingerly, trying to grasp the feeling during those moments when his lips were there.

I stretched and crept downstairs, careful not to wake my mom. Quietly, I made myself toast and Nutella, and was eating it when my phone buzzed.

matt: alexa?3

I grinned, pleasantly surprised. I hadn't expected Matt to actually text me.

me: ah, the klutz can keep a promise

matt: stop reminding me!! what r u doing today1

me: sleeping.

matt: feel like doing something fun?2

I was infinitely pleased. I thought Matt would want nothing to do with me, or be to shy to build a friendship. I texted him that I didn't see why not, and he gave me directions to his house.

My eyebrows rose in surprise as I pulled into Matt's driveway. The house was palatial, with tall hedges around it's white walls and pillars. "Jeez," I heard myself whisper. Littered around the driveway and lawn were toys in various shades of pink: pink bikes, pink helmets, and all types of Barbie memorabilia. I knocked on the pine double doors, and almost immediately, they were swung open.

The three girls at the door each looked about six years old. I didn't know Matt had sisters, I thought, but they were obviously related. The girls had the same chocolatey brown hair, thick and braided into pigtails, and eyes in varying shades of green.

There was no formality with these girls. They looked me up and down critically. "Who are you?" one of them asked. She planted her hands on her hips. I found myself being dragged to the couch as the other two grabbed my hands and pulled me through the door.

"Um, I'm-- what are you doing -- I'm Alexa." I tried to wiggle away as the girls started messing with my hair. "Matt? A little help?"1

"Oh, God, guys, get off her! I told you not to answer the door to strangers... Alexa, I'm sorry about... them."

"Why is she here?" one demanded.

Mumbling so his sisters couldn't hear, Matt told me, "They're not used to much company." To them, he announced, "This is my friend, Alexa. Alexa, this is Mya, Katie and Ariana. The triplets."3

They appraised me with doubt. "She is here to see you?" Ariana asked skeptically.

"You didn't tell me you had sisters!" I whispered.

Matt rolled his eyes. "I wasn't planning on it," he muttered, before herding me out the door. "Bye guys!" he called over his shoulder. He led me to his car as their shouts faded behind him.

"Well, Matt, aren't you just full of surprises! I met you bussing tables, but then... that." I waved my hand in the general direction of his house.

"Joey's a family friend, I'm always there to help out when they get shortstaffed," Matt explained, dismissively. "So," he began, stopping at a red light and steepling his fingers, sending a creepy grin my way. "I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you today..."

"Oh God," I half-mumbled.

"I'm just kidding. There's a new trampoline park near Cavalry street and I--"

"Hold on. A what park?"

An excited flush took over Matt's face under his freckles. "You've never been? Ah, you haven't lived!"

The name alone made the place sound like a blast, so I was fidgeting with excitement by the time Matt's car pulled up to the building.

The place was really just rectangular trampolines, lined up like a huge feild. Around the perimeter of the trampolines were more trampolines, positioned like slanted walls. I shimmied excitedly, and Matt patted my back condescendingly. "Simmer down, child," he told me, rolling his eyes. He bought me my rental helmet and shoes, which made me look so nerdy, I wanted to hide my face. But no one here besides me or Matt was over twelve, besides parents.

I was a lot less graceful than I thought I'd be. It was like walking in a bouncy castle, with everyone popcorning me when I tried to walk. Matt shook his head at me when my ankles gave out, walking steadily as if we were on solid ground.

"Alexa, you really suck at this," he told me honestly, helping me up and grimacing. "Sorry."

I glared at him but took his hand. I'd landed on my back (again) as I failed at landing a front flip (again). "Shut up."

By the second hour, Matt had me bouncing off the slanted walls and somewhat successfully doing front flips. My thighs burned. Who knew trampoline parks were such a work out?1

Matt's energy was unbelievably boundless. I, on the other hand, flopped onto my stomach exhaustedly. "Mnnmhmn," I groaned, whining like a tired toddler. Matt shook his head-- he'd been doing that a lot lately-- and gave me a piggyback ride out to his car. I fell asleep in the passenger seat, and when I woke up we were at McDonald's. "Chicken nuggets," were my first words as my eyes opened. Matt didn't stop hysterically laughing until we were in line in the restaurant.

We sat at a booth to share a twenty-piece, in contented silence. "So--" he began.

I held my hand up to stop him. "Nuggets first."

Matt rolled his eyes. "I don't take orders from wierdos with chipmunk cheeks."

I finished chewing after choking on laughter. "Why didn't you tell me you had sisters, Matty-boy?"

Matt smiled and shrugged. "Never came up. Hard to forget, I know. Again, sorry about that," he said self I deprecatingly.

I shook my head. "Stop apologizing, for Christ's sake."4

Matt chuckled again. "Well, maybe you could stop giving me reasons," he said, earning a stuck-out tongue from me.

"Oh yeah," he said, nodding. "Real mature." Matt reached over to flick me on the head. "So, tell me about yourself, Green."

I shrugged. "Not much to tell. My best friend is Netflix. I live with my mom. No hidden family," I said pointedly.3


"Sorry, okay?"

I grinned and stuffed another nugget in my mouth, savoring all the artificial obviously-not-chicken yumminess. "How about you Mr. Large House? What's your story?"1

"I didn't exactly get a story from you, but whatever. Um, well, before I moved here, my mom and dad had started a big organic-foods business. You know, the hippy-dippy stuff is big out there with the hipsters and all."

I rose my eyebrow at him.

"I'm just kidding, stupid. But it's pretty big out there. So, we moved when the girls were born, and my parents run Carrigan foods remotely. So, yeah. That's it."

I nodded, taking it all in. "Cool, cool."

We were interrupted by a snobby blonde hostess. "Um, we have a loitering policy..." She trailed off, and I rolled my eyes. I didn't know McDonald's had policies, ever. But Matt and I left, and he drove me home.1

I grinned back at Matt, waiting in his car, when I was at my front door. "Adios, Matty-boy. Thanks for a great day!"

Matt faux-saluted me. "Bye, Alexa. It's been real!"

I shook my head at his dorky goodbye and unlocked my door. I slammed the door behind me, utterly exhausted.10
There was a teacher's workshop on Friday, so we had the day off. As was tradition at our school, there would be parties in spades on Thursday night, one of which my friends and I were invited to. The three of them were all for a night of revelry. I, however, took a bit more convincing.

"Alexa, please! It won't be any fun without you," Summer pleaded.

"Oh, gee, a party without Debbie Downer the man-girl," I said sarcastically. Grace snorted. "I'm not going. I've had enough socializing."

"Come on," Jen whined. "Live a little, you turtle-person." This earned another snort from Grace.

I was saved by the bell, and off to English. I slid into the seat next to Reed and smiled at him, still blushing a bit, reveling in the magic of our date. He smiled back, cute as ever.1

Our teacher, Mr. Hall, liked to have us read aloud when we worked as a class. Our first book was Romeo and Juliet. I know, how cliche. But honestly, I loved the story, even though we'd already went over it freshman year.

Reed and I were the only ones not waving our hands in the air to read parts, so of course, Reed was Romeo. I wasn't really sure whether I should've tried really hard not to be Juliet, or jumped at the chance. As it turned out, I didn't have much say.

"I think Lexi would love to read for Juliet," Reed called out, oozing faux-innocence. I sent him a cutting glare as Mr. Hall gave me Juliet's lines.

"Act one, scene five, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Hall announced. "The masque at the Capulets' home."1

Class readings like this made me cringe, and wonder how some people made it to senior year. They read like they were illiterate, and I found myself near nodding off as we began. Monotone voices are beyond depressing.

Then, Reed started to speak.

At first, you could tell he was trying to pretend he wasn't into it. But there was something about the way he read, something amazing and beautiful and charming. Without even trying, he read better than anyone in the class. Why was he still using the bad boy thing to get girls, when every female in the room was swooning just listening to him reading words out loud?

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." he read. Suddenly, I could feel his eyes on me. Even with someone else's words, Reed was giving me goosebumps. I ignored everyone else talking; just feeling the warmth of his gaze sent my mind reeling.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." I found the courage to look at him, and I was trapped in his stare. I felt his hand go around mine.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." I struggled to make my voice even, but I had no idea what I was saying. My cheeks reddened as the words came out haltingly, nowhere near as smooth as Reed's. No one seemed to notice.

As we went through the lines, I could feel everyone's eyes on us. I dared to look around during one of Reed's lines, and there was Marin Daley. She and Ava were the only ones not swooning over the intensity of Reed's performance. Instead, they were staring daggers at me. Again.

The scene ended as I was asking the Nurse who Romeo was, when the bell rang. Reed was still holding my hand, and continued to as he led me out of class. I was walking on air, no matter how hard Marin Daley wanted to stare at me. I was almost sure Reed was mine.

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He walked me to my locker, and we didn't speak as I got my stuff. Whenever I looked up, he was just smiling dopily at me. I quirked my eyebrow up. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," I teased him. He complied, taking out his phone. I cheesed at the camera.

Reed shook his head, staring at the photo. "Adorable. Wallpaper-worthy, I'd say." He showed me his new wallpaper, a Gremlin-like version of me. I rolled my eyes.6

"You need a better picture of me," I sighed.

"I could get one," Reed replied, hopefully, "If you'd come to Anna's party on Thursday with me. Three little birdies told me you weren't gonna go."

My friends were the worst.1

Reed took my hand again. "I know what you're going to say. Just say the opposite. For me?"7

Well. Now I couldn't say no.3

—-

There wasn't any convincing my mom to let me out tonight; she was working late. I threw on my cutest LBD (that's little black dress, for those of you fortunate enough not to have friends who shove fashion factoids down your throat) and a pair of matching heels that I thankfully didn't fall in walking out of the house. I fluffed my curled hair and peeked out the window at the driveway. Empty, except for my car. Where was Reed?

I sent a few texts, but he never answered. An hour and a half passed, and I was tired of waiting. In a huff, I got into my car. I texted Reed that I had left without him, but of course, he didn't reply.2

Anna's house wasn't all that big, but she had a huge pool, a deck, and a killer sound system, so she'd got a nice turnout. The house thrummed on the outside with bass from the party music.

"Darling, you made it!" Summer explained, very faux-Hollywood and obviously drunk. She gave me kisses on both cheeks.

"Nice legs," Jen teased, coming up from behind and slapping my butt. My friends did this all the time, but it still made me blush from embarrassment. To them, it was nothing. Just another form of PDA.

"Lexi-child, you look like a guuuurl." Grace was slumped over Jen's shoulder, even more white-girl-wasted than Summer, in a black bikini and a borrowed sombrero. She poked my boob. I slapped her hand away.

"What is it with you guys and touching me?" I grumbled good-naturedly. Grace shrugged, smiling with crinkled eyes.

"Where's Reed?" Summer hiccuped. I shrugged.

"Late. I had to drive myself. But Matt just texted me that he'll be here in a bit, so you guys'll meet him," I replied.

Grace had started poking my cheek and staring at it with wonder. Jen rolled her eyes.

"Your friends are making idiots of themselves."

"They're yours, too, Jenny."

"I don't claim these," Jen joked, wrinkling her nose. We laughed, and our stupefied friends just giggled obliviously.

"Alexa, hey," Matt called. He wore a white button down and navy shorts, typical party clothes for the kids around here (except his were much more expensive-looking). He looked good, but also uncomfortable. I could tell this wasn't really his scene.

"Matt! I'm so glad you came." I led him over to the slovenly pile that consisted of my friends. "I hate for you to meet them when they're, uh... like this, but this is Jen, the not-drunk one."

Jen waved, a hard task with Grace holding onto her for dear life.

"Hi, Jen," Matt greeted her, giving a salute. "Um, who are..."

"Grace and Summer. Don't ask."

Anna threw a good party, I'll give her that. I usually only come to parties because Grace and Summer always get drunk and need a designated driver. I never really enjoy parties, but I had fun at this one. I almost forgot that Reed still hadn't texted me. Almost.

I don't know why this happened, because I'm usually not the type to make such an utterly dumb decision, but I wandered upstairs. It only took around two minutes for some drunk pervert to push me up against the wall and start breathing on my neck with a sweaty hand plastered against my face. My screams were under his right hand, and the left squeezed my butt.1

"Are those screams for me?" he sneered, his sour breath fanning across my face.
I rolled my eyes, spit a loogie in his hand, and then bit him. "Get your hands off me!" I grunted, pushing the guy away. His cries were of disgust mixed with pain. I walked away feeling so cool, with a smirk on my face.

And then, I tripped on the stairs.

I heard people get louder as I tumbled; some shouting expletives, others wondering if I was okay, and the vast majority laughing. I didn't even want to take my head out from its contorted position as I slowed down and stopped in the middle of the staircase. The whole party got quiet for like, thirty seconds, but then the people lost interest, too drunk, high or just having to much fun to care.

"Hey, Alexa? Are you okay?" Matt. I was relieved to see him, and let him help me up.

"If by 'okay' you mean bruised and mortified, yeah, I'm fine."

"Who's the klutz now?" he chuckled, then squinted at me. "What were you — should I even ask?"

In the tiniest voice possible, I muttered, "Running away from a rapist."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" He chuckled and shook his head again in disbelief. I was forever getting that head-shake.

"Are you saying I'm rape-able, Matthew Carrigan?" I asked, feigning anger.

Matt's cheeks reddened so quickly, I thought his head was going to explode. It didn't.

"Oh, my God. Isn't that your friend? She looks terrible."

Grace was still in that skimpy bikini, but right now she didn't look quite as glamorous. She just looked pathetic. She was curled up in the corner, eyes glued to her phone as tears spilled out of them.

"Oh, honey."

Gracie looked up and sniffed. "Alexa. I need you to drive to the, um, the hospital." She spoke slowly, like a kid learning how to read. She was drunk beyond belief.

"Why? What's wrong with you, are you hurt?" I asked. I offered my hand to her, but she ignored it, shivering in her outfit (or lack thereof).

"No," Grace slurred. "It's not me." She looked at me with her forlorn blue eyes welling up with tears that were already leaving shiny tracks on her cheeks. "It's not me," she repeated, her voice cracking.

"It's my Daddy."

For the last months I have been reading and listening to several articles, jornalistic reports, podcasts, debates and interviews about the incel phenomenon in modern society, and even if the majority of them were highly against incels, I should point out that their argumentations were either wildly imprecise or relatively easy to deconstruct, but whenever there was an incel present they would not be any better at argumentations, which is somewhat understandable for even if one passes trought a very specific situation it does not mean they are some type of professional debater that will be able to defend the views that he has acquired trougth personal experience in a suficiently articulated and convincing argumentative speech. It is my hope that by sharing my reflections on this topic that I may strengthen the arguments of incels so that we can have a more productive participation on the societal debate about incels.



To begin this discussion we should observe that essentialy what inceldom is, is a symptom of the existence of sexual selection in the midst of human societal practices, I would say that to many people this is not so much of a problem to accept, and that would be true, but there is at least one group of people that this becomes somewhat of a taboo when they are beeing completely honest in the discussion, and those are the people that defend egalitarianism, sure what they usualy mean when they are defending egalitarian measures is that they don't agree with how in Captalism a person is arbitrarily born in either a rich family or a poor family and that the one born in a rich family has way more opportunities than someone born in a poor family, and how this makes many poor people work their entire lifes, many times not beeing able to leave poverty and reach the middle class while other people hardly work at all but have the privilege of beeing born into a rich family. On this note it is interesting to notice that what happened in every socialist country when they abolished Captalism and forcifully equalized the economy, instead of money being what people strived for, it became political power, for the political institutions would by then have become more stratified and with the most opportunities centralized around a political hierarchy of the state, and then again inequality emerged for those people with political power and those without, for people that were arbitrarily born into a more influent family and people that were born into a unrecognized family. Of couse, no coutry ever achieved this, but suposing one coutry were able to go trougth socialism without breaking, and were then able to implement comunism were there would be no state and therefore political power would then become equally distributed amongst the people what then would become the thing people would then strive for ? Well I am sure there could be many things but if I were to guess I would conjecture it would be sex, the differences in sexual hierarchies would be intensified creating caste systems where people that were arbitrarily born more attractive would be able to enjoy the status of a higher caste where they would have many opportunities and people that were born very unattractive would live lives as untouchables, members of the lowest caste were no opportunities would ever emerge. In this truly dystopian scenario, but nonetheless plausible for caste systems were very common in India and many other asiatic coutries, obviously there would never be any forced redistribution of sex, for it would be societal sanctioned rape which obviously is a crime ( even though every other forced redistribution of capital, and of political influence were also crimes, although one could argue that they were of different proportions) and therefore we would never really have any egalitarian utopia but only changes of through which medium inequality would arise.



All this talk about socialism and comunism has made me remember Slavoj Zizek’s article about incels (https://thephilosophicalsalon.com/the-moebius-strip-of-sexual-contracts/) and how he commits the hilarious mathematical error of saying things like "We would thus oppose the logic of universal human rights and the logic of social hierarchy as the two sides of a Moebius strip " when one of the most notorius characteristic of a moebius strip is that it only has one side, it gets even worse when after that he says "and focus on their point of intersection" (« Facepalm » ) what does he mean ??? the whole strip ??? And when you think it couldn't get any worse he begins to talk about turning and reversing shapes which only have one side, it's like some sort of mathematical torture, I know he is a specialist in Hegel and that makes him by consequence a specialist in meaninglessness and in utterly nonsensical things but this is too much. It is nothing more than the screaming example of double standards at play and nothing more, only then could he make a distinction of two things that are the same, that is, there can be no true equality if it doesn't encompass every significant thing in a person's life and that includes "politico-economic life and sex ". Although until here it may seem that I am advocating that there should be some type of enforcement of sexual partners, I would like to express how utterly appalling I think such thing is, and if you think that would be the only way to achieve equality of sexual relationships amongst everyone, then you are agreeing much more with the so called incel black pill than you are openly expressing. It is funny how the incel-normie situation resembles that of the lumpenproletariat - proletariat situation, much like how the proletarian class looks at the bourgeois class with envy, the proletarians at the same time despise and fear the lumpenproletarians for they may envy the proletarians, just like how the proletarians envy the bourgeois, and in doing so they may undermine the legitimacy of the proletarians in the class struggle and in this way prevent the Proletarian revolution.



This takes me to the question of "do incels belive they are entitled to sex ?" To which my answer would be : not any more than anyone else. I mean think for a minute, when an incel goes to declare himself to someone and ultimately gets rejected, the very rejection could only happen either because this person does not want to be in any relantionship ever, or because the person he declared himself to thinks they are entitled to someone better. Incels are not any more guilty, than they are victims of entitlement. And then one would say that there are no more reasons to belive that there should be any asymmetry between dating strategies of males and females, and that would perhaps be the case if humans layed eggs instead of adopting a gestational strategy in which the mother becomes vulnerable, which by itself, was a big problem since humans where nomadic for the greater part of our existence, and therefore there was evolutionary pressure to make females have higher standards whenever they would select their mates, to justify the risk they would have to pass through. Ok, so if this is something that has been this way since times immemorial why is inceldom a contemporary problem ? I would not say it is a contemporary problem, it is a problem which has been greatly amplified in comtemporary times in which everyone is having way fewer children because of the cost, and because it is only in contemporary times that we have seen the dismantlement of what feminists would call the patriarchy, and more conservative people would call the traditional family model and there is also the absolute abandonment of responsibility. Those things contribute first to women beeing more picky as a return to those more primordial instincts in these times in which it has become so expensive to have children, and along with the understanding that stability together with responsibility are in the decline, making women in general choose a much more select group of men, and beeing with any one of them by much less time. Creating a whole mass of women that have not been in many, if any, long therm relationships, a group of men that have relative easy acess to as many relationships as they desire and another group of men that have each time less and less chance of being in a relationship. Returning to the question of entitlement, if there is such a thing as a belief of entitlement to sex that is supported by a whole subsection of the population then we have to look for the origin of this belief, and although many people would go quite trigger happy to say that the source of this entitlement is this forum and others like it, I wouldn't be so sure of this, for a forum only reverberates opinions and narrative images that are already existent in society, this problem, if it exists at all, is much more profound than that, it has to do with the socialization process, and to better illustrate what I mean by saying that I will make reference to a personal experience, not because I think this will prove anything about how everyone behaves, for it is certainly statistically insignificant, nevertheless I belive this report will bring to light the superstructure of values and beliefs present in contemporary society that does much more to foster this entitlement than it does to sever it, that is to say that although statistically insignificant I belive my report not to be meaningfully insignificant.



When I was in High School I remember that in the first of a series of classes about sex education there were phrases profered such as "Since everyone in here will sooner or later have a sexual relationship ..." and "sex is a fundamental part of every healthy lifestyle" and many other like-minded sentences, since in my family I have an uncle that, differently from every other adult in my family, was not married and I remember the day that I, as a young boy, asked my mother why that was and she said that he was never able to date anyone and that he had given up on actively search for love, but she was sure that one day the right person would show up in his life. To me he was always an example of person living an alternative lifestyle, one that was as much valid as any other, for he was, and still is, one of the happiest people that I have ever know.



As I grew up I found out that he as a teenager studied in high school at morning and had began working part-time at evening, and once he had finished High school he began working full time in a factory and was living with my grandmother until he had saved enough money to buy his own house, but by his late twenties my grandfather died and he took the responsibility, as the oldest son, of economically helping my grandmother. Acording to my grandmother he never had had a girlfriend and she used to joke that because of that he had become grumpy. As time had passed he knew nothing but rejections in every declaration of love he had ever made, until he had enough of it and stopped caring about love all together. My uncle was what we would call today an incel. Today he is 78 years old and lives a simple retired life, he likes to buy old watches and repair them if so they need and then he sells them at slightly higher prices than for what he purchased, he goes on walks in parks and plays chess.



When I was having the first class in sex education and the teacher kept implying that sex was a inevitability, initially I thought about myself and how I have never had a girlfriend or even any type of close relationship with a girl and how I couldn't imagine my future self being any better than my then current self in this regard, and then I thought about my uncle and how his situation was the perfect counterexample of what that teacher had said, and then, having become somewhat troubled by what she was saying, I asked : "Teacher, you have been making several generalisations about how everyone will someday need to know all this information about sex, but what about those people that do not wish to have sex or what about the people that will never in fact be able to be in a sexual relationship ? Isn't this type of information useless to them ? I mean there are all kinds of important information about self preservation that we don't talk about, like airplanes or ships safety precautions or workplace safety procedures or even how to be careful about possible legal loopholes that might ruin someone's life, and yet we do not talk about these topics, probably because we do not think that they are applicable to everyone in here, so why is it that this classes are obligatory if there are people for which this information is useless and these classes are nothing more than lost time? and why is it that you have not mentioned abstinence as a prevention method ? " to which she answered : "It is important to learn about sex because even though presently you may not want to have sex, one day when you meet the right person this information will be useful, you may be doubting now about what I am talking but it is not as if we choose for whom we will fall for." this answer made me really unconfortable back then and reflecting about it made me realise that society as a whole is in large part to blame about people believing that they are entitled to sex, people feed hope of a better romantic future, many times in direct oposition to what every shred of evidence seems to indicate, to those who have difficulties with romance with talks like “ you don’t need to be worried about being rejected you just have to be yourself and one day someone who values you for what you are will appear.” and “you are a nice person you just need to wait until someone realises that.” and “ I’m sure that if you did X you would be much more in evidence and people would notice all the other great aspects about you” and “the right person for you is somewere out there you just have to find them” etc.



We drown people with all these hopes and promises and then we become infuriated if they ever complain about how they think life is unfair for not manifesting love to them as it does to the vast majority of other people, we say to they then “you are not entitled to sex” and “of course nobody will want you if you have that attitude” among other things, this is simply a image of how hypocrite and full of double standards society really is, in a first moment out of pity and some times as a form of doing away with a annoying situation, we offer this blind hope to those people in such a way as to make we not need to feel guilty with ourselves for our accomplishments and to not have to deal with any annoying and complicated thing as the romantic frustrations of another person, but in fact we don’t know if any of those promisses we made will ever be fulfilled and to begin with there is no way we can know about those things, and when all this hope we gave to those people backlashes we become offended or we laugh and ridicule that which we ourselves fostered.



That being said, I don’t tink there is anyone who actually thinks that they are entitled to sex in as much as there is people that recognise that intimacy is a type of fundamental human need and that people deserve to have such needs fulfilled. This understanding that intimacy is a fundamental human need can be very well observed in those people that go to psychologists and decide to talk about their romantic shortcomings, and the answer of the psychologist is never to say: “Get the hell out of my consultory! You are not entitled to sex or intimacy or romantic appreciation, if you have not yet understood this, I advise you to stop being a cry baby and deal with it !”. The problem about fundamental human needs and if these needs implicate rights is a difficult and important debate, especially for those that honestly hold a more egalitarian ethos, but it is not one that I will tackle in these reflections. To be completely fair then I will assume that someone that, trough the contrapositive of a belief arrive at another, that is to say, if someone believes that “I don’t deserve to live in solitude” it implies the belief that “I deserve companionship “, and since I consider that the original belief is as valid as the belief that “I don’t deserve anything “ that implies “I don’t deserve companionship “, leaves me to conclude that it is as fair to think that one does not deserve companionship as it is to think that one deserves.



Another story from when I was in High School is about one day in which we, the students, were handed a survey about our future aspirations and some of the questions were in multiple choice format, in particular one of those questions were “What is your most important objective in life ?”, amongst the answers were things like having a successful career, having a comfortable life with many travels trough the world, living a balanced life with no lack’s and no excess, and also there was a option that said “to marry, establish a family and have kids.”, initially I had read this sentence with a certain disregard, perhaps because at that time I already had a notion, based on what I had witnessed by then, of how my future would be like, and It had made the very notion of “establishing a family” as not something one could ever strive for, that is to say, it wasn’t anything that one could ever direct any work or effort towards, people would just live their lives and dedicate themselves to their ambitions, and only if one such people had the luck of meeting with someone that not only they liked but that also liked them in return, would then one be able to “establish a family”, in a sense this were a random event that could or could not occur within one's person lifetime, it is not something that has a continuous progression and therefore it is not something that one could rush towards as a objective, because there isn’t even any direction to rush towards. In my mind only those emotionally needy people would choose that option, those people that don’t seem to be able to be alone for any amount of time, and that always seem to be dating someone, and that make periodic references to their significant other and how they wished they were together in that specific moment. These people seem to be afraid of being alone or of even loneliness itself, it is the type of people that would say that their biggest fear is to die alone, and in saying that forgets that in life the majority of people are born alone and die alone, and they kind of contemn the lives of those people that live their entire life in solitude. With my disregard towards people that would choose the alternative “to marry, establish a family and have kids.”, I openly expressed my opinion about what I thought of that to my two best friends, it so happened that one of them had chosen that option in his survey, we then entered a discussion about how in my opinion that was a pathetic objective, and my friend rightly pointed out that what is important to each person is subjective which put me in a position where I had to concede that he had won the argument, and although in that moment I still didn’t think that objective to be worthy of being the most important to anyone, that for me was still the aspirations of cattle not of (mostly) rational human beings, but as time went on I began to see from new points of perspective this aspiration and began to not think so lowly of people who thought of constituting a family as their main objective in life and in fact at some point I began to accept that as valid as any other objective people might have in life, things like thinking about how according to several economists one of the main factors that move the economy is in fact the establishment of families, which generates many demands that in turn creates jobs to increase the supply and in this way equilibrates prices, other perspective that was quite enlightening was that of looking towards my own parents to which I am indebted for the rest of my life for having cared for me throughout my whole childhood and adolescence and how they sacrificed many things in favor of securing better opportunities in life to me and my siblings, than that which they themselves had, and they did that because their biggest objective in life is the well-being of their family, having benefited myself from such a life ambition how could I criticize others that may wish to follow the same objective ?



Obviously I can’t. And so I have come to terms with people who have their main ambition in life “to marry, establish a family and have kids.”, but immediately we arrive at a problem, take this friend of mine as a example, my social life in High School was mainly interacting with people who had the same problems to fit in with the rest of the class as myself, and this friend of mine was not different in this sense, I have kept in contact with the majority of my friends of High School and with my two best friends, and even now many years after we graduated High School and University none of us has ever had any relationships, even my friend which his biggest dream is to marry and constitute a family wasn’t able to even have a girlfriend in all of this time, so, even though it is not my life, I still think we have to reflect about this cases in which a person begins to see the years and years go by and their humble, if I may say so, life's dream appearing to be every time farther and farther away of being realized, can someone really be angry at the thought of someone in this situation gets disenchanted with life, and sometimes by doing so, begins to resent people in general ? Since I am talking so much about High School let me make an analogy with one of my particular experiences in High School, do any of you know how it feels like when you like something let’s say an group sport like soccer or basketball for example, but every time people would make the teams you were always the last one to be selected ? Well I know very well how this feels because that last person to be selected was always me, I used to like to play volleyball with my family in a volleyball court that was close to home, I never was very athletic but I liked to play, but as I began to play volleyball, any sport really but I liked volleyball in particular, in PE class in Middle School and High School I was always the last one to be chosen for any team and during the game all my teammates always treated me as some type of dead weight that they had to carry, and it was by observing their behavior towards me that little by little I not only stopped liking volleyball, but it became the sport that I hated, and still hate, the most. The feeling of being treated as if you are incapable of any positive collaboration to the victory of the team, the sporadic occasions in which a member of your team noticed how sad you were at not being able to participate in the game and purposely let you touch the ball, only to make themselves feel better for what they were doing, as if that was some act of charity they were performing. It all got to my nerves at some point and all I could feel every time I played volleyball was how little my classmates thought of me.


One can make a parallel between my description of the games of volleyball on my School years to what happened to my friend that had as his main ambition in life “to marry, establish a family and have kids.” in his adult life, except that in life no one is obligated to accept you just because you have offered yourself, so were you to be the last to be selected, in fact you just wouldn’t be selected at all, and that is what happened to him ( it also happened to me ). And sometimes when his Parents or his work colleagues noticed how lonely he were they would try to arrange to him a date with some women, and when he ultimately didn’t succeed at making a girlfriend, they would go to him and criticize him for letting such a chance let go like that, as if they were doing some type of charity to him. Could you really get mad at him for resenting those people who always seemed to reject him and also those people that felt bad for seeing the contrast between their lives and that of my friend and “mercifully” decided to offer him some time of emotional charity by arranging a date with some single woman they knew, only to not have to witness the loneliness of others.



Another topic that I have been thinking about was about how we model our understanding of the existence of incels in society, and since I have been watching several lectures of Jordan Peterson, I have been interested in the Jungian idea that at the most primitive and/or fundamental level we human beings model the world trough the use of archetypes, it then stimulated me to think about which character would best represent the incel archetype ? Thinking about it quite meticulously it came to mind at least two stories that had major characters that we would today categorize as incels, those would be The Hunchback of Notre Dame’s Quasimodo and Cyrano de Bergerac’s Cyrano. Although Each of the stories have their own qualities and defects, through the semiotics of inceldom both characters are the representation of one societal occurrence, that is the utterly bankruptcy of Ethics at the predilection of Aesthetics, and as such I ultimately would have to choose Quasimodo as the better representative of the incel archetype, given the genius of Victor Hugo there is actually a passage in which Quasimodo leaves two vases in the window of Esmeralda’s room “One was a very beautiful and very brilliant but cracked crystal vase. It had allowed the water with which it had been filled to escape, and the flowers which it contained were withered. The other was an earthenware pot, coarse and common, but which had preserved all its water, and its flowers remained fresh and crimson. I know not whether it was done intentionally, but Esmeralda takes the withered flowers from the crystal vase and presses them passionately on her heart for the entirety of the day.”. This symbolism represents almost perfectly the incel conundrum, this behavior of Esmeralda is the behavior of the vast majority of females, and although we cannot say that every incel can be described as a person that is internally akin to vibrant flowers that remained fresh and crimson, even if we were to exclude those that are morally corrupt, which seem to be homogeneously distributed trough all social groups, there would still be those that have scarred hearts from their previous failures, although the vast majority of incels have been naive and hopeful at some time in their lives, this naivety progressively becomes a presupposition of malice and this hope becomes scorn, that is to say, can one honesty believe that a unkept flower in a uncracked earthenware pot would not shrivel, dry and die ? Given that it’s necessities were not being fulfilled in a very long time (perhaps even never) ?



The usual reading of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, from my experience, looks with disdain towards the indirect rejection he suffers from Esmeralda, some people look at that and categorize it as a simple sexist instance of “it’s tragic because he didn’t get the girl”, where the situation is not anywhere that straight up, to quote Jordan Peterson on rejection: “It is a real judgement, at best it would be like: while I don’t mind your physical presence, your genes should definitely not survive another generation”, and if that was all perhaps that would be okay, but that is not all that happens, Esmeralda chooses Phoebus instead of choosing Quasimodo or even not choosing anyone at all, she rejects Quasimodo despite all of his good intentions and chooses Phoebus regardless of his egotistical intent. Why does she do that ? This has already been answered in these reflections, it is because se makes an aesthetic judgement and not an ethical one, Quasimodo is judged for his ugly and deformed appearance, of which he had virtually no choice, and Phoebus is judged for his handsomeness, of which he had been gifted without having done anything to deserve such blessing. Other people see that as a pathetically obvious result: “what did he expect ? Esmeralda is way out of his league, he should just accept that and hope that he finds someone that is just as ugly and deformed as himself, if that is even possible, and why should I even care for such a story ? The vast majority of the population, including myself, is neither deformed or that ugly and never have passed or will pass though such a life.”, whilst ignoring it’s own connotation as wildly discriminatory and sickly eugenic, much like Plato in his Republic: “It follows from our former admissions that the best men must mate with the best women in as many cases as possible, while the opposite should hold of the worst men and women; and that the offspring of the former should be reared, but not that of the latter, if our flock is going to be an eminent one. And all this must occur without anyone knowing except the rulers ... So then, we will have to establish by law certain festivals and sacrifices at which we will bring together brides and bridegrooms, and our poets must compose suitable hymns for the marriages that take place. ... I imagine that some sophisticated lotteries will have to be created, then, so that the inferior man of that sort will blame chance rather than the rulers at each mating time. ... And presumably, the young men who are good at war or at other things must —among other prizes and awards — be given a greater opportunity to have sex with the women, in order that a pretext may also be created at the same time for having as many children as possible fathered by such men.”, this is said by Plato, one of the most influential philosophers of the western world, so it is not that strange that people with such eugenic thoughts still exist and many times do not even realize the dangerous similarities between these two views, to simply accept this imposed hierarchy is not any better than to be like sheep that cannot begin to fathom the intentions of the shepherd.



That leaves us to think why is it exactly that almost every decision one can make is subjectable to ethics, with the notorious exception of romantic/sexual judgments, it is at this intersection between a unscrupulous pursuit of one’s desire and a prudent restriction towards ethical conduct, that the intellectual dishonesty begins, because there are considerable interests at stake, therefore the very notion of ethics in the judgment of romantic partners is discarded and this rustic, amorphous, sometimes even mystical, and a priori unprincipled imagery of what is love is pushed forward as a means to justify partial/biased judgment and to crush dissent among those that are at the margin in this aspect of life. This imagery is propaganda, and just like any propaganda, it seeks to create a narrative that encourages complacency towards the present status quo and vilifies the desistance of pursuit of those success goals that have been dictated by the narrative. That is why there are people that having been exposed to the narrative that effort is not only necessary, but sufficient to achieve economical success, for example, these people that take contemporary society to be a complete meritocracy, can pass by a homeless person and not only they become incapable of being sympathetic towards the difficult situation that those in misery pass through every day, but take that as a just sentence, for if those people had been committed and hardworking they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with, as they are it can only mean that they haven’t been those things, that they haven’t put enough effort to free themselves from poverty in which case they are only experiencing that which they deserve and one should only feel repugnance and aversion towards those people.



If anyone thinks that this is only exaggeration and a way to justify an inferiority complex, or as people in my country say a mutt complex, if you think so I suggest to you to make a thought experiment, imagine you had to cheer up Quasimodo that was sad because of his loneliness, could you honestly tell him things like “You just have to keep trying to find your soulmate, she is definitely out there.”, would you really think that was the case for someone that deformed ? And if you would say that what makes you think that this situation is any different from that which was jokingly pointed out by George Carlin in one of his jokes about prisons where he said something like “Everybody more or less agree that we need more prisons, some people even scream 'BUILD MORE PRISONS ! ... but not in here.' “. It is like those people that keep saying how people should be seeking love because they believe that society is full of bitter and resentful people , but then feel insulted if anyone they don’t fancy ever declare romantic feelings towards them. This characterizes a insidious cycle where society at large advocates for love as a fundamental element of having a successful life, and then there is a number of people that fail at that, and then society reaffirms love and then surprisingly enough more people seem to fail and then not only society reinforces this idea of love, they condemn those that fail at it, this is what is happening in Japan where an ever increasing number of men are not able to find female romantic partners, which then reflects negatively in the number of births which then begins to affect the economy of the country, another bizarre phenomenon that is happening there is that the number and popularity of female aimed brothels, or as they call it there Host clubs, that although also exist in the male oriented forms, they don’t reach the ridiculous proportion that the female oriented Host Clubs have achieved where there are literally huge billboards promoting the most popular “hosts”(gigolos) outdoors in clear day light , and then some people begin to complain that this situation is unique to Japan and that the situation on the vast majority of the world is different from that, and that may be true presently, but what they fail to see is that the demographics of present day Japan accurately represents the projections for the immediate future of all developed countries and that it already began to show in developing countries as well, so we would better learn what can be learned from Japan's situation because we will pass trough that soon enough.



Returning to how ethics has lost to aesthetics in the dating landscape, we may depart from a rational ethical analysis from what we experience in our failed attempts at dating, and the most recurring basis for rejection is not behavior or education or dedication, these things only achieve critical importance once two people have already begun dating, the thing that really works like a filter is attractiveness, which fundamentally means looks, knowing this we may begin this ethical analysis by asking what it means to exert judgment on other people mainly trough aesthetics, and that is, what makes anyone more aesthetically pleasing than another person ? Is it the actions that one chooses to take ? Is it the way one thinks about things ? Is it the behavior one upholds ? Is it the personality one has developed throughout his life ? Or is it one's physical appearance which was primarily defined by his genetics at the moment of birth, and secondly by the environment in which he grew up, both of which are random events in which one doesn’t have any influence over ?



Supposing one has honestly answered those previous questions can anyone say that the physical appearance is not a fundamental factor towards attractiveness ? If one still doesn’t agree then imagine yourself honestly telling that to Quasimodo, that is, if you were even capable of that. Still in this topic of attractiveness, a strange phenomenon that has been happening since about the 1990's when the percieved beauty standards for males changed radically. Generaly it is women that complain about the unattainability of such ideals, what is obviously a statistically and ethical valid complaint and one that I will take as a given, yet although unattainable they can hardly be said to be unfeminine, if for anything, the unattainability of such female standards arises from the exaggeration of the feminine to unrealistic levels, where as the contemporary beauty standard for males is almost entirely unmasculine in it's nature. The common feature shared by most male models of female oriented magazines is that, with the exception of their musculature and their jawbone that tend to be accentuated, they resemble some type of androgynous angel-like figure, having therefore more feminine traits in opposition to those biologically induced by characteristic masculine hormones like testosterone. In conclusion while women complaints of beauty standards are based in the fact that the cutoff region of what is considered attractive in the multivariate distribution of feminine aspects is so narrow that they become unrealistic, although the variables of the distribution are in principle still comparable throughout, if not all, the vast majority of women; Where as with men the problem lies in the fact that there is a break between men who have in their appearance those feminine dimensions capable of mustering an androgynous look, which has become attractive as of late, and those who doesn't have this dimension to them, and in this discrete, discontinuous classification we have men being forsaken not because they don't lie within some range on the scales of attractiveness, but because they are not even on many of those scales to begin with, that is, some times it is not only because someone is on the lower strata that they are rejected in favor of someone else, sometimes it is just because they aren't even comparable in the first place, and this is a big problem because, may people like it or not, there are way more people that look like Quasimodo than there are people that look like angels anyway.



One fascinating exemple of how ethics becomes mixed with aesthetics occurs when a feminist calls all men pigs (or at least some portion of men), is the identification of a men with the figure of a pig a ethical judgement or an aesthetical one ? It almost seems as if the problem was not the actions perpetuated by those men but their aesthetics, that those actions would be somewhat acceptable, were practiced by some Christian Grey of Fifty Shades of Grey instead of some random creep. Still talking about those feminists, there is much talk about how women should just wear whatever they want and that they shouldn't be demurred by any possible sexual aggressor, after all the guilt of any aggression is always of the aggressor (which is a correct assessment, of course), nevertheless it should be pointed out that this type of discourse has many times promoted debauchery and demoted prudency, and this is a problem because, although the guilt of the aggression is of the aggressor, we have to remember ourselves that sexual impulses are not triggered by rationality and logic (hah, we wish that were the case, imagine if things were so simple and reasonable as solving numerous logic problems from a set of "propositional calculi" « See what i did there ? » ), but by instinct, so that it only takes a person with bad judgement for a tragedy to happen, is it really okay to encourage women to make themselves preferential prey to those molesters ? One thing is to envision an idealized society, another one entirely is to advocate unprudent behaviour in the real world. In the extreme end of feminism we find organizations such as Femen wich proclaims to fight against the malice of the patriarchy, only to do so with malice of their own and to fight malice with malice can only increase the total amount of malice in the world.



So we have people judging other people mainly trough randomly assigned traits, considering, of course, that even those who can improve themselves into becoming more attractive have first to have the potential to become more attractive, and this potential is equally randomly assigned. We have then to ask ourselves if this is ethical, which it is not, for it is an arbitrary judgment, and knowing that we must ask ourselves what can be done to remedy this unjust behavior, obviously we could not force or coerce people to change this, for it would be equally not ethical, the only thing we can really do is to accept the way things are and to take our own judgment upon this unethical situation. One thing that I have seen recently that has made me a little irritated was this, rather vulgar, video by BuzzFeed (), the guy in the video is certainly not a very ethical person by what is portrayed of him thinking, but for a second forget what he thinks and what he does in his privacy, no one else in the real world would know that to begin with, what I think is the most irritating thing is the part where he buys a watch to gift to the coworker that he belives he is developing feelings for, even if it is in his own twisted way, and when he finally goes to give the gift to her, he freezes and is not able to say anything and she gets uncomfortable with that and walks away, at the next moment we see him in the HR being scolded for inappropriate behaviour, since when does trying to give a watch to someone constitutes inappropriate behaviour ? It is as Roger Scruton has once said (), as society is tending towards becoming less and less civilized, romantic relationships begin to stop requiring a previous period of courtship and become each time more dreadfully direct, or how Roger Scruton said “Nowadays, of course, sexual harassment just means sexual advances made by the unattractive, who are the majority, so you know, there is a huge injustice in this.”.



Going back to the topic of how incels are seen by society, we may spend days and days arguing about how every time there is, for a lack of a better word, a public exhibition of the subject there is always a permeating hypocrisy of some sort, either they think we are just “bad losers” in a way, that just because we aren’t able to date anyone we think it is alright to be whining about how we couldn’t achieve that which we wished, and how this is only because the world is unjust and so on, when in fact the majority of them revert right back to this state whenever their established relationships crumble, and in this moment they don’t think that in fact they are just whining and that they should just “buckle up, kiddo”, or when people are so reductionist to the point that they say we incels are just frustrated because we can’t get laid and begin talking about how this is some justification for why prostitution should be legalized, when in fact just because something is illegal it doesn’t mean it is impossible to find, prostitution, much like illegal drugs, is not that difficult to find if you are actually looking for it, these people forget about the deepest existential question that is in fact what really desolate the incels, these people just say this because they have had the privilege of having had their emotional needs fulfilled and reassured by this they have taken the liberty of dissociating one thing with the other, and having had their emotional needs fulfilled they begin to only think about sex and their sexual desires instead of the more basic, humane, problem. In the last case people just assume that if someone is rejected by everyone they have ever approached, then that means they are some type of freaks that should just lay down and rot, after all the word of the people have been ushered, and the word of the people is law. But jokes aside, I wish to talk about one opinionated person in particular, Natalie Wynn the transexual woman of the YouTube channel ContraPoints, in her video about incels () to which many people took to be a pondered, even perhaps conciliatory, stand on the question of inceldom, yet, although better than the majority of the expositions of the topic she still makes fundamental mistakes about incels, in particular in the part about how the black pill is just catastrophizing, or how she exposed it as being defined by psychotherapists as “A cognitive distortion where anxiety or depression leads you to infer apocalyptic conclusions from mundane setbacks and anxieties.”, every incel reading this might instantly see where the problem in that is, it only gets worse when she gives the first example of such a situation, she says to consider a person that is late for work and that from that they get to the conclusion that they and their hole family are going to die because of that, later on she tries to show how the black pill is just another scenario of catastrophizing, except that it isn’t as simple, consider first her first example, sure one person who once got late may not get fired because of that, but what about someone that is always late ? In fact forget the whole scenario where this person is employed in the first place, this scenario is already too reassuring to begin with, consider instead someone that is unemployed and has always been and the reason that that is so is amongst other things that they seem to always get late to their work interviews, let’s say that happens because they live in a city that has a serious problem of traffic congestion, since this person has not been able to get a job until now it would not be strange if they accepted that their chances of being able to get a job are low, and if they aren’t able to get a job soon they and their family are soon enough starve to death, of course this put in this way has a simple solution, just wake up early!, but let’s talk about something more real, in Brazil there has been a economic crisis that has subsisted over the last five or so years, and that has generated a somewhat new class of labor force categorization, roughly speaking there are the employed, the unemployed and the dismayed (in portuguese “desalentados”) that have given up on looking for a job and that according to the IBGE (Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics) has estimated to be around 4.8 millions of Brazilians in the last year (2018) estimates. Which only demonstrates how giving up at situations of an overwhelming number of rejections is not some type of silly catastrophizing, it is something more close to a natural reaction towards this ubiquitous presence of rejection, but let’s go back to Natalie's description of the black pill, she begins with saying that experiences of rejection and isolation, where she doesn’t quantify this, making it seem as if it is just some experiences of rejection and isolation and not the only thing one has experienced, then she says one might infer that one’s unattractive to women, what may seem a plausible inference from someone that has had some experiences of rejection but is quite certain for someone who only has experienced this, then she goes on to say that from this one may conclude that they will be attractive to any woman, which again is a very big jump for someone who has had some experiences of rejection, but it is not that big of a inference jump for someone who was only experienced rejection, she then goes on to say things that are not inferences but deductions from the last inference in points 4-You will be forever alone; 5-You will always be Unhappy; and 6-Women did this to you. And then she goes on to talk about some points that can try to explain why would things be in such a way as to allow someone to come at those previous conclusions, that is points 7-feminism empowered women to do this to you; 8-The social trends that made this possible are only getting worse; And then there is that last conclusion that I will take the liberty of rewriting as 9-Humanity itself, as understood to be the association of every human being as equally “human” and therefore equally deserving of existence, nutrition, education, housing, friendships and love; is therefore Doomed. Having reach this conclusion is it really that strange if someone were to begin to think that the only thing that one can do in this overwhelming scenario where one is faced with nothing more than the perception and understanding of impotence towards the status quo of things ? That figuratively, in this scenario of powerlessness, the only thing one can do is to lie down and rot ? She then goes on to make rampant generalizations about how incels could stop being incels, or how she puts it “Mom the shit out of them.”, if they just socialized more, made some friends, ..., and many more standard discriminatory assumptions that people in general make and that they think they have the solution to. But to be frank I don’t dislike completely her video, compared to what other people have said she is almost comprehensive in this video, and if it were not for her latest video on Beauty (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=n9mspMJTNEY) I would probably not being criticizing her now, but in this video she simply tries to justify why when she makes a plastic surgery it is alright, but when it is an incel that does one it is not because of the pressures of society, it is purely because they want to have sex with women and that they think that by doing that they will have their lives become meaningful, not because perhaps they would wish some amount of love in their dispassionate lives, but then again there is that one frase Natalie said in her penultimate video, what was it again ? .... oh, right it was that it’s “just a privileged person with a platform punching down at a politically besieged group he understands nothing about.” (here it has to be noted that her video on Incels is her most seen video.), after all if you can point out to people that never had a relationship how meaningless it all is and how it wouldn’t bring any meaning into your life anyway, is it alright for her then if we just faced every couple head on and said that their affection towards one another is really just a delusion that their relationship will foster them with any meaning in their shallow meaningless lives, just like a proper cynic would do ? I suspect not !


Another problem with Natalie exposition is that a part of the reason that she went through plastic surgery was because she wanted to be more beautiful and attractive, and how she wanted to look more like a woman, but that doesn’t seem to be ethically acceptable, if we were to consider a person who doesn’t like their ethnicity and would wish to make themselves look more like a ethnicity they liked more, would it be ethical to allow this person to pass trough treatments for skin whitening and facial reconstruction just to look more like a given ethnicity, would it not only be the expression of a societal racism that was then internalized by this person, and shouldn’t they be stopped and made understand that ethnicity is simply not something that should characterize anyone as this or that, and that they can in fact be whatever they want without having to reshape themselves to serve the perception of other people ? In this case shouldn’t Natalie just keep herself the way she was because of the same reasons ? What is it that really matters how one sees one’s self or how others see them or how one changes the way they see themselves based on how other people see them? These are difficult questions, but they are questions that demand answers as soon as possible because they are of fundamental importance to guarantee that everything is coherent. You see there was this very famous British mathematician called G.H. Hardy that, tell the stories, hated to look at his own face in the mirror and every time he would travel, he would ask for the hotel to cover all mirrors in his quarters with towels so that he wouldn’t have to keep staring at his own face. Some people today would certainly say that the cause for that is a psychological disorder and that he should go to a psychologist and solve that



Having faced several rejections, the majority of which didn’t provide any constructive criticism, although there were several instances of conveyed disgust, one still has to hear criticism of this sort: “Your belief that you will never find anyone who would love you is absurd, you cannot give up, you just have to keep trying even if it takes a hundred or a thousand tries, once you find someone who accepts you that will be all that will matter and all those rejections will be meaningless.”. Although it is sad to burst the bubble of such a Happy go lucky though, we have to face the facts nevertheless, and the fact is that the more rejections one has the lowest are his chances of actually being accepted by someone, it is just basic probability theory, considering that for any given person the number of attempts to get a girlfriend is too low to estimate the exact probability of him being accepted at any given occasion, we have to use the best expectation of such a result that we can make with the limited number of trials such a person has experienced, and the way to do that is with Bayesian probabilities, that is by the use of Bayes’ Law to update the initial expectations. To better illustrate this I will present an example, let us say that a young and naive boy would like to find the probability of him being accepted or rejected by a girl when he confesses, because he is very naive his first expectation is that there is as much chance of him being accepted as there is of him being rejected as he thinks to himself: “I don’t think there is any particular reason for me being rejected as also there isn’t any for me being accepted.”, and then he experiences his first rejection and says to himself: “Well, although that was sad, according to my expectation that was as probable as any other outcome”. As time goes on he finds that all five of his confessions ended in rejections and thinks to himself that the chances of that would be about 3.1% with the assumptions he had made, it can be that he was just unlucky, but he decides to make use of Bayes’ Law to update his expectation values of acceptance and rejection, since those trials can only result in discrete combinations of yes or no answers and because the number of possible candidates is so large that we can make the small approximation that there is reposition, which implies the need of the use of a binomial distribution to represent the chances of being accepted in a given number of trials, which when put into Bayes' Law, with the use of the Product Law of probabilities, can then be easily shown to be proportional to the initial guess of distribution of the acceptance (or conversely of the rejection) times a beta distribution with a normalization factor, I took the liberty of plotting the graphs for a given initial distribution of the acceptance probability and its evolution as one keeps getting rejected, in blue we have the probability density of the acceptance probability and in green we have the cumulative of such a probability density:

As one can see there is a clear tendency of the distribution to the right, that means that with every rejection the expected probability of a acceptance gets smaller and smaller, parting from a very conservative initial expectation distribution for the probability of an acceptance with a mean on 50% chance, we get that 15 consecutive rejections, and no acceptance since the beginning, later we have a 70% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 10%; and 20% of chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 2%.

Should one get 20 consecutive rejections with no acceptance since the beginning, we get that there is a 70% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 7%; with a 20% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 1%. It can be shown that this distribution uniformly converges to a class of distributions so called (Bounded) Pareto Distributions, which are sometimes mistakenly said to have the 80% to 20% rule, but this is only the case for exactly one Pareto Distribution and need not be the one we are getting.



I had a friend that once told me he had 34 consecutive rejections since he had begun trying to get a girlfriend, so only for curiosity I made the calculations and there is a 90% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 7%; and a 20% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 0.7% that is to say that there is a 1/5 chance that on average* only 1 girl out of the next 142 girls he decides to declare to will accept., (*) considering as if the 0.7% were a larger concentration of probabilities, which is not the case, for it is in the 0% that there are bigger concentrations of probabilities. That may not seem soooo bad but we have to consider that we begun with a very naive and unrealistic guess at what the distribution of the acceptance probability would be like, had we begun with a homogeneous distribution or a distribution that was more centered at rejection we would have gotten way worse results. One funny paper that should not be taken as serious because the writer is too picky and his calculations are imprecise and uses outdated data is the paper entitled "Why I will never have a girlfriend" by Tristan Miller wich can be found at his web site at https://logological.org/girlfriend. So if we can take anything from the last exposition is that it doesn't matter if my probabilities are precisely correct what really matters is that if one person were to be completely rational about it's prospects of finding a girlfriend the weight of all the rejections he had ever witnessed are in fact evidences that his chances are not any good, and that with every rejection his percieved chances of success can only get worse.

 

[Cigarette]

View attachment 1183922'
I held my schedule for my senior year in my hands, all the while searching for that familiar shock of brown hair. Honestly, I had no idea why I was getting my hopes up. The improbability of "us" came down to simple math. I was Alexa Green. He was Reed Marlowe. It was simply illogical. But at the moment, it didn't matter to me.

I had his number in my phone, but since the brief conversation in July after the laser tag party, we hadn't texted each other. I turned my iPhone in my hands, biting my bottom lip.

"Alexa!" Grace's raspy voice was unmistakable. Suddenly, her thin arms were thrown around me in a tight embrace. "You look a little too good," she quipped, wriggling her eyebrows. "Who's the guy?"1

"Grace." Getting my voice to go flat wasn't particularly difficult. Still, my best friend wouldn't buy it.

"Okay, loser, don't tell me. I'll find out." Grace gave me a suspicious look, twirling a piece of her long blonde hair around her finger.

I forgot about Reed momentarily, happy to be back with my crew. Grace was the only one of my friends I'd really hung out with that summer. The others knew about my aversion to social scenery. So, today was the longest we'd been together in months.

I wasn't even thinking about Reed when he texted me during lunch, something I'm a little too proud of, since I'd been freaking out about what I would do when I saw him. He'd saved his number under the hot one from laser tag with the sunglasses and heart emojis, and it was too funny for me to bother changing it.

the hot one from laser tag: hey lexi5

My breath caught as I looked around the cafeteria for Reed. There he was, grinning at me across the room.

me: hi... i can't come up with a nickname for reed. sry

I watched him laugh at my text with embarrassing pride, feeling a goofy smile on my face.

the hot one from laser tag: im coming over there, i need to check if we have classes together.

I struggled to act cool as I watched him walk over to our table. Everything he did- walking, smiling, existing- was too sexy for comfort.

Grace followed the direction of my gaze, and her mouth popped open. "Why is he coming over here?" she whispered, half to herself and half to me.

Reed slid onto the bench next to me and gave me a look that made my breath short. As if he did it everyday, he wrapped his arm around my waist and winked a greeting to my dumbstruck friends.

"Hi, Lexi. How was your summer?" Reed asked, plucking one of my fries off my lunch tray.

My cheeks were impossibly warm. "Uh, good. Yours?"

"It was good. Hey, I need your schedule." I handed it to him.

He grinned. "English! I would've liked more, but at least there's one."

I realized I wasn't breathing. I felt like I was going to throw up with him touching me, with his arm slung around the small of his back. I couldn't do anything more than nod at him.

He chuckled again, and rose out of his seat. "Well, Lexi, I'll see you around." He grabbed my hand and shook it before leaving. It wasn't until then that I noticed everyone in the cafeteria looking at me. Thankfully, I couldn't dwell on that for long.

"What...? Alexa! Explain!" Summer Hardy, one of my other friends, hissed. She wrung her red ponytail excitedly.

"I don't know!" I replied helplessly, throwing my hands up. "What do you want me to say?"

"Something like, um, I don't know, 'I made friends with Reed Marlowe this summer'?!?"1

"Or more than friends," Grace added, winking with mock sensuality.

"It never came up," I said sheepishly. Jennifer, the mom-type in the group, smacked me upside the head.

"You should've brought it up, stupid," Jen huffed.

I sighed. "Whatever." I looked down at my plate. "Hey!"

me: u ate my fries?!!2

Reed winked at me across the room.

the hot one from laser tag: mmmmhmmmm they were sooo good lexi. thanks

I shook my head angrily.

me: NOT OKAY REED. NOT OKAY.

the hot one from laser tag: dont be a baby lil lexi1

I was way too angry to be charmed by the nickname.

me: just wait till english. ill crush u. nobody eats my food5

the hot one from laser tag: ok lil lexi whatever u say1

----------------

My next class was pre-calc with Summer, Jen and Grace all in class with me. All four of us sat in a square, with Grace behind me, and Summer and Jen across from us. We whispered at each other and gossiped while the teacher droned on about the syllabus.

Grace poked me from behind with her pen. "Alexa."

I turned around and poked her back with my pencil. "What, loser?" I whispered.

She rolled her eyes at me. "I am not a loser. But listen, don't look now, but Marin and Ava are staring at you. Dude, what happened this summer? Why are they suddenly noticing you?"

Marin Daley was the self proclaimed queen of our school. Her whole clique were heel-wearing hair-flipping model-types with killer attitudes. None of my friends could stand them. They were just so... arrogant. Marin figured out just how one controlled people like that. Ava Gossamer was one of those people she kept under her thumb, her closest friend. The slightly simple blonde would do whatever Marin wanted.

Marin's green eyes glinted as she stared at me. She, along with the five Barbie dolls around her, seemed to be assessing me. For what, I didn't know. I did know that I was uncomfortable.

I turned to Grace and shrugged. "Beats me. I just don't like it. I wish they would look somewhere else."

I watch Marin give me a tight-lipped smile, Barbie-fake as usual, and whisper something to the group. They glanced at me one last time, and then the staring was over.

I didn't know what to think, or what was going on, so I shoved the whole experience out of my mind and attempted to pay attention to the teacher.


I slouched on my bed later that night, swinging my legs off the side. Boredom had brought me to a new low. I stared at my phone, pathetically reading through my messages with the hot one from laser tag. Every now and then, I had to smile.

"Alexa!" I heard my mom call. My whole posture straightened. Mom's home! I pumped my fist in the air. Most of the time, my mom got home from work when I was already in bed.

I tore down the steps and wrapped my arms around her waist. "Hi, mom!" I know, my clinginess was childish, but I never got to see her. My mom worked at the emergency room as a nurse all day, and wasn't home until eleven or twelve, usually. For some reason, though, she was home hours early.

"Hey, babe," my mom said, ruffling my hair as I embraced her. "Listen, I'll be back in five. I'm going to pick up a pizza from Joey's for dinner."

I guided her to the couch, gently pushing her onto a cushion. "No, no, no, you just got home. Let me go. Chill for a while."1

Mom rolled her eyes, dropping the car keys and a twenty dollar bill in my hand. "Thank you, Alexa. And I want to hear all about the first day when you get home." She wasn't talking about academics. Mom was as entertained by soap-opera worthy high school drama as any teenager.

I got into the car and drove to the pizza parlor with the a wide grin on my face. Today had been excellent. Mom was home, Reed flirted with me, and I'd seen all my friends. I couldn't think of anything that could ruin it.5

The pizza parlor was especially busy today, being one of the more popular restaurants in town. I rocked on the heels of my white Converse as I waited in line to pick up the pizza my mom had already ordered (Joey's didn't do delivery). A waiter, seemingly overwhelmed by dinner rush by himself, raced around trying to take care of everyone.

the hot one from laser tag: lil lexiiiiiiiiiiiii

I chuckled. It seemed like that nickname was here to stay.

me: lil... reedie? idk2

the hot one from laser tag: no. definitely not1

me: ree ree?1

the hot one from laser tag: never.

me: reedie fresh? im not good at nicknames, ok?2

the hot one from laser tag: ill take reedie fresh if you promise not to call me that in public1

"Oof!"

My sneakers were soaked in ice cold liquid. I looked down at the overturned pitcher of Sprite, and then at the brown-haired boy scrambling to clean it up. I couldn't even be mad at him, he looked so helpless. I leaned down and offered my hand to help him up.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes were round with shock as I brought him to his feet. "I am so sorry, I really didn't mean to--"

"Hey, it's fine," I assured him, smiling. "Hey, do you go to my school or something? I feel like I've seen you." I peered at his face, but couldn't place his wide eyes and freckles.

"I'm Matt. Matt Carrigan." When his name didn't register, he shrugged. "I'm not the most memorable person to meet."

"Well, I definitely won't forget you now," I joked, gesturing to my shoes.

"I'm really sorry about that."

"Matt, chill, it's fine. Really."

Matthew looked at me appreciatively. He had the cutest freckles I'd ever seen, and an adorable flop of brown hair. I honestly wanted to pinch his cheeks, and I guess it showed on my face.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" Matt asked, inching away from me.

I blushed. "No reason." I spotted his phone, the top peeking out of his pocket. "Hey, can I see your phone for a sec?"

The change in his face was somewhere near comical as he handed it to me. He watched, dumbstruck, as I put my number in.

"I'll see you at school, probably, but if I don't, you'll text me, right?" I asked.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."5

I grabbed my pizza from the service counter and paid. With the box in my hand, I turned back to Matt.

"See ya!" I called to him, bumping the door open with my hip. My shoes squelched as I walked out the door. "Do you promise to text me?"4

Matthew leaned out the door and smiled at me. "Yeah, sure."

I waved at him one last time before I got in the car and drove home.

"Little Lexi." The singsong whisper came again, for the billionth time during my English class. It took a lot of expended effort to ignore Reed, but it got a little harder once he started throwing tiny balls of paper at the back of my head.

"Yo. Big Al!" he chuckled, and then there was another tiny ball of paper. I finally turned around and glared at him. He simply grinned in response, wide as ever.2

me: dude. srsly1

the hot one from laser tag: what r u doing tonight

me: u rly threw those papers at me to ask me that?

the hot one from laser tag: no. i was asking for the answer to number 12. i wouldve asked u this eventually tho1

I turned around just to roll my eyes at him. He shrugged.

me: I am NOT helping u cheat. im sleeping tomorrow night.

the hot one from laser tag: can I come?3

me: REED MARLOWE. STOP IT

He sent me a winky face, and when I turned around, there it was. The signature wink, punctuated with a blown kiss.

the hot one from laser tag: but srsly I want to take you out, lex14

My breath caught as I read and reread the message. He really wanted to take me out on a date? I struggled for my text to sound blasé, like I wasn't having a million mini heart-attacks.

me: ok. what time?1

the hot one from laser tag: around seven.

me: ok

How I managed to not melt before the end of English class, I dont know. I was shot through with excitement, fear and nerves. I was actually going on a date with Reed Marlowe.

---------------

"A DATE?!? ALEXA, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME EARLIER?"

I cringed at Grace's strident voice as it pierced my ears through the phone. "Jesus, Grace, he just asked me in English. I was still in shock until now." I leaned on the tiled wall in our school's bathroom and kneaded my temple. "God, Grace, what do I do? I don't do... dates. I have no clue what to wear, how to act... you guys have to help me."1

"Well," Jen said through the phone. "I can come over tonight."

Summer's voice was distant in the background. "I'm free."

"Okay, so we'll come over and walk you through. Is your mom going to be home? I'm thinking of an outfit, but you can't let her see you leave the house in it." I rolled my eyes at Grace's constant need to send me out of the house in crazy outfits.

"Scratch it, then. I texted her right before I texted you."

"Oh. Well, where are you going?"

"The movies. But, Grace, c'mon, don't overdress me. I'm not the hot one. That's you."

"Oh, whatever. I know the hot one is just the slutty one to you. You've got to embrace that part of yourself sometime."

"Well, not this time," I insisted firmly. "Look, Grace, let's let Summer pick the outfit. You can do my hair if you want, and Jen can mess around with my makeup."

"Awww," I heard Jen coo. "It's our little Alexa's first date! We're so proud."

"Jen."

"What? Hey, we gotta go, but we're coming over. Don't try to lock us out or anything. Grace'll just climb through the window."

"Wonderful." I rolled my eyes. Leaning onto the sink, my fingers gripped the cold porcelain as I let out a rush of breath.

What had I gotten myself into?1

~2

"Alexa, hold your eye open! I don't want to pinch you."

I desperately wanted Jen to get away from my eye with the eyelash curler, but I'd made it this far. Summer had coaxed me out of my sweater and jeans and traded for a swingy tiered dress, and Grace had managed to get beachy waves to stay in my hair.

I looked in the mirror and tried to act like I didn't like it. "I look like such a... girl."

"A welcome change, " Grace muttered under her breath.1

"Hey!"

"Alexa! Reed's here!" my mom called from.

"Oh, God." My eyes darted between my friends in panic. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"Not on my watch," Summer growled, pushing me out of my room. She dragged me to the top of the stairs, then escaped back to my room. "Good luck!" she singsonged, and slammed the door in my face. No turning back now.

"Alexa!" my mom called again. I took a deep breath and headed down the stairs.

Do you remember our first date? I do. We were going to the movies. My heart skipped a few beats and my stomach fluttered as I opened the door for you and saw those eyes sparkling at me. My mom looked at you suspiciously. I couldn't blame her. I couldn't even call you cute, because you oozed sex appeal. I could tell she expected you to act like any other hormonal teenage boy. I'm sure she thought you were the type to break hearts as she glared at you. But I thought, No, I know him. He's so sweet and nice and the way he's staring at me is making me very uncomfortable. So, I gently called my mom off.

As you slipped your elbow in the crook of my arm to lead me away... oh, God, everything you did gave me chills, and that, I couldn't explain. How was I supposed to get through the night having an aneurysm every time our skin touched? I think you felt me tense because you looked over and then you reached for my hand and held it. My heart nearly stopped right then. I was looking at our entwined hands and thinking, oh God my hands will sweat he'll think I'm weird he'll stop liking me he'll ditch me before we even get to the movie. You looked nervous, too, and you held my hand gingerly like china or a bird's wing, like something beautiful. We both looked at that pair of hands as if between them were life's secrets. I was antsy, so I talked to fill the silence of the car. You already knew I didn't like dresses, so I told you Summer made me wear it and how weird it was having to think about the position of your knees. You smiled at me. "You're so cute," you said, and told me you thought my dress was beautiful. My cheeks burned for the rest of the ride.4

For some reason, the walk into the movie theater was like walking a red carpet. I saw nearly ten people from school in the lobby, looking at us (well, mostly you), whispering about relationship statuses, about how mad your exes would be. I was mortified; you seemed not to notice at all.

The horror you'd planned to take me to (we shared an interest in that genre) was sold out along with everything else worth seeing. But we couldn't not see a movie, you reasoned, so you chose a cheesy rom-com.

I felt safer once we were in the darkness of the theater. There was a bucket of popcorn and two sodas between us, and in the absence of light you couldn't so easily spot my blemishes.
I'd never watched a romantic comedy with other people before. The crying and hysterical laughing always happened behind closed doors, on my bed swaddled in sweats and a soft tartan blanket. I didn't cry at this movie (too predictable) but it was still awkward going on a date watching other people suck face. The distance between our faces was around a foot, meanwhile, the onscreen lovers' faces mashed together in a kind of messy intimacy I'd never experienced. I took careful mental notes for a situation in which I ended up kissing you. I took in the twists of the actress's head, her fluid body movements, where your hands were supposed to go.

"Never do it like that." I turned sharply to the sound of your whisper. You'd seen me inspecting them! Blood rushed to my cheeks, but you just grinned."She's too fast."3

I said, "Oh," the only thing I could say. A low chuckle escaped your lips as you ruffled my hair. Without any of the usual preliminary sneakiness, you draped your arm over my shoulder, like it was nothing. My breath caught in my chest. In that moment, I wasn't even breathing, and we were silent. I was incredibly nervous with the touching and the making out going on in front of us, so I thought, fill silent moments with food, so I reached my hand into the popcorn bucket. I brushed the rough tips of your fingers as I tried scooping up a few kernels. I was still, and so were you. And then, you were holding my buttery hand.

I thought, why did he do that? and then, why didn't I think of that? I thought, what if he hates girls with short nails, or what if I get a pimple on my hand from the grease? I tried to figure out, as the movie progressed, how this experience was for you. On this end, it was wonderful. Our hands stayed buried in there until the house lights turned on and we had to leave.

You drove me back home in comfortable silence. Nervously, I applied chapstick, because the rumor was that you always kissed on the first date, and you hadn't yet. I clasped and unclasped my hands in anticipation as we neared my house. On my front porch, you separated my hands and held both of them. "I'll see you Monday, little Lexi." You kissed me on the cheek.

You left a very confused Alexa on the porch and drove away, just like that.

I wasn't sure whether I was crushed that you hadn't kissed me for real, or elated that I was different.Soft fingers of light filtered through the curtains on Saturday morning. I smiled sleepily to myself, and touched my cheek gingerly, trying to grasp the feeling during those moments when his lips were there.

I stretched and crept downstairs, careful not to wake my mom. Quietly, I made myself toast and Nutella, and was eating it when my phone buzzed.

matt: alexa?3

I grinned, pleasantly surprised. I hadn't expected Matt to actually text me.

me: ah, the klutz can keep a promise

matt: stop reminding me!! what r u doing today1

me: sleeping.

matt: feel like doing something fun?2

I was infinitely pleased. I thought Matt would want nothing to do with me, or be to shy to build a friendship. I texted him that I didn't see why not, and he gave me directions to his house.

My eyebrows rose in surprise as I pulled into Matt's driveway. The house was palatial, with tall hedges around it's white walls and pillars. "Jeez," I heard myself whisper. Littered around the driveway and lawn were toys in various shades of pink: pink bikes, pink helmets, and all types of Barbie memorabilia. I knocked on the pine double doors, and almost immediately, they were swung open.

The three girls at the door each looked about six years old. I didn't know Matt had sisters, I thought, but they were obviously related. The girls had the same chocolatey brown hair, thick and braided into pigtails, and eyes in varying shades of green.

There was no formality with these girls. They looked me up and down critically. "Who are you?" one of them asked. She planted her hands on her hips. I found myself being dragged to the couch as the other two grabbed my hands and pulled me through the door.

"Um, I'm-- what are you doing -- I'm Alexa." I tried to wiggle away as the girls started messing with my hair. "Matt? A little help?"1

"Oh, God, guys, get off her! I told you not to answer the door to strangers... Alexa, I'm sorry about... them."

"Why is she here?" one demanded.

Mumbling so his sisters couldn't hear, Matt told me, "They're not used to much company." To them, he announced, "This is my friend, Alexa. Alexa, this is Mya, Katie and Ariana. The triplets."3

They appraised me with doubt. "She is here to see you?" Ariana asked skeptically.

"You didn't tell me you had sisters!" I whispered.

Matt rolled his eyes. "I wasn't planning on it," he muttered, before herding me out the door. "Bye guys!" he called over his shoulder. He led me to his car as their shouts faded behind him.

"Well, Matt, aren't you just full of surprises! I met you bussing tables, but then... that." I waved my hand in the general direction of his house.

"Joey's a family friend, I'm always there to help out when they get shortstaffed," Matt explained, dismissively. "So," he began, stopping at a red light and steepling his fingers, sending a creepy grin my way. "I suppose you're wondering why I summoned you today..."

"Oh God," I half-mumbled.

"I'm just kidding. There's a new trampoline park near Cavalry street and I--"

"Hold on. A what park?"

An excited flush took over Matt's face under his freckles. "You've never been? Ah, you haven't lived!"

The name alone made the place sound like a blast, so I was fidgeting with excitement by the time Matt's car pulled up to the building.

The place was really just rectangular trampolines, lined up like a huge feild. Around the perimeter of the trampolines were more trampolines, positioned like slanted walls. I shimmied excitedly, and Matt patted my back condescendingly. "Simmer down, child," he told me, rolling his eyes. He bought me my rental helmet and shoes, which made me look so nerdy, I wanted to hide my face. But no one here besides me or Matt was over twelve, besides parents.

I was a lot less graceful than I thought I'd be. It was like walking in a bouncy castle, with everyone popcorning me when I tried to walk. Matt shook his head at me when my ankles gave out, walking steadily as if we were on solid ground.

"Alexa, you really suck at this," he told me honestly, helping me up and grimacing. "Sorry."

I glared at him but took his hand. I'd landed on my back (again) as I failed at landing a front flip (again). "Shut up."

By the second hour, Matt had me bouncing off the slanted walls and somewhat successfully doing front flips. My thighs burned. Who knew trampoline parks were such a work out?1

Matt's energy was unbelievably boundless. I, on the other hand, flopped onto my stomach exhaustedly. "Mnnmhmn," I groaned, whining like a tired toddler. Matt shook his head-- he'd been doing that a lot lately-- and gave me a piggyback ride out to his car. I fell asleep in the passenger seat, and when I woke up we were at McDonald's. "Chicken nuggets," were my first words as my eyes opened. Matt didn't stop hysterically laughing until we were in line in the restaurant.

We sat at a booth to share a twenty-piece, in contented silence. "So--" he began.

I held my hand up to stop him. "Nuggets first."

Matt rolled his eyes. "I don't take orders from wierdos with chipmunk cheeks."

I finished chewing after choking on laughter. "Why didn't you tell me you had sisters, Matty-boy?"

Matt smiled and shrugged. "Never came up. Hard to forget, I know. Again, sorry about that," he said self I deprecatingly.

I shook my head. "Stop apologizing, for Christ's sake."4

Matt chuckled again. "Well, maybe you could stop giving me reasons," he said, earning a stuck-out tongue from me.

"Oh yeah," he said, nodding. "Real mature." Matt reached over to flick me on the head. "So, tell me about yourself, Green."

I shrugged. "Not much to tell. My best friend is Netflix. I live with my mom. No hidden family," I said pointedly.3


"Sorry, okay?"

I grinned and stuffed another nugget in my mouth, savoring all the artificial obviously-not-chicken yumminess. "How about you Mr. Large House? What's your story?"1

"I didn't exactly get a story from you, but whatever. Um, well, before I moved here, my mom and dad had started a big organic-foods business. You know, the hippy-dippy stuff is big out there with the hipsters and all."

I rose my eyebrow at him.

"I'm just kidding, stupid. But it's pretty big out there. So, we moved when the girls were born, and my parents run Carrigan foods remotely. So, yeah. That's it."

I nodded, taking it all in. "Cool, cool."

We were interrupted by a snobby blonde hostess. "Um, we have a loitering policy..." She trailed off, and I rolled my eyes. I didn't know McDonald's had policies, ever. But Matt and I left, and he drove me home.1

I grinned back at Matt, waiting in his car, when I was at my front door. "Adios, Matty-boy. Thanks for a great day!"

Matt faux-saluted me. "Bye, Alexa. It's been real!"

I shook my head at his dorky goodbye and unlocked my door. I slammed the door behind me, utterly exhausted.10
There was a teacher's workshop on Friday, so we had the day off. As was tradition at our school, there would be parties in spades on Thursday night, one of which my friends and I were invited to. The three of them were all for a night of revelry. I, however, took a bit more convincing.

"Alexa, please! It won't be any fun without you," Summer pleaded.

"Oh, gee, a party without Debbie Downer the man-girl," I said sarcastically. Grace snorted. "I'm not going. I've had enough socializing."

"Come on," Jen whined. "Live a little, you turtle-person." This earned another snort from Grace.

I was saved by the bell, and off to English. I slid into the seat next to Reed and smiled at him, still blushing a bit, reveling in the magic of our date. He smiled back, cute as ever.1

Our teacher, Mr. Hall, liked to have us read aloud when we worked as a class. Our first book was Romeo and Juliet. I know, how cliche. But honestly, I loved the story, even though we'd already went over it freshman year.

Reed and I were the only ones not waving our hands in the air to read parts, so of course, Reed was Romeo. I wasn't really sure whether I should've tried really hard not to be Juliet, or jumped at the chance. As it turned out, I didn't have much say.

"I think Lexi would love to read for Juliet," Reed called out, oozing faux-innocence. I sent him a cutting glare as Mr. Hall gave me Juliet's lines.

"Act one, scene five, ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Hall announced. "The masque at the Capulets' home."1

Class readings like this made me cringe, and wonder how some people made it to senior year. They read like they were illiterate, and I found myself near nodding off as we began. Monotone voices are beyond depressing.

Then, Reed started to speak.

At first, you could tell he was trying to pretend he wasn't into it. But there was something about the way he read, something amazing and beautiful and charming. Without even trying, he read better than anyone in the class. Why was he still using the bad boy thing to get girls, when every female in the room was swooning just listening to him reading words out loud?

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night." he read. Suddenly, I could feel his eyes on me. Even with someone else's words, Reed was giving me goosebumps. I ignored everyone else talking; just feeling the warmth of his gaze sent my mind reeling.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." I found the courage to look at him, and I was trapped in his stare. I felt his hand go around mine.

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." I struggled to make my voice even, but I had no idea what I was saying. My cheeks reddened as the words came out haltingly, nowhere near as smooth as Reed's. No one seemed to notice.

As we went through the lines, I could feel everyone's eyes on us. I dared to look around during one of Reed's lines, and there was Marin Daley. She and Ava were the only ones not swooning over the intensity of Reed's performance. Instead, they were staring daggers at me. Again.

The scene ended as I was asking the Nurse who Romeo was, when the bell rang. Reed was still holding my hand, and continued to as he led me out of class. I was walking on air, no matter how hard Marin Daley wanted to stare at me. I was almost sure Reed was mine.

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He walked me to my locker, and we didn't speak as I got my stuff. Whenever I looked up, he was just smiling dopily at me. I quirked my eyebrow up. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," I teased him. He complied, taking out his phone. I cheesed at the camera.

Reed shook his head, staring at the photo. "Adorable. Wallpaper-worthy, I'd say." He showed me his new wallpaper, a Gremlin-like version of me. I rolled my eyes.6

"You need a better picture of me," I sighed.

"I could get one," Reed replied, hopefully, "If you'd come to Anna's party on Thursday with me. Three little birdies told me you weren't gonna go."

My friends were the worst.1

Reed took my hand again. "I know what you're going to say. Just say the opposite. For me?"7

Well. Now I couldn't say no.3

—-

There wasn't any convincing my mom to let me out tonight; she was working late. I threw on my cutest LBD (that's little black dress, for those of you fortunate enough not to have friends who shove fashion factoids down your throat) and a pair of matching heels that I thankfully didn't fall in walking out of the house. I fluffed my curled hair and peeked out the window at the driveway. Empty, except for my car. Where was Reed?

I sent a few texts, but he never answered. An hour and a half passed, and I was tired of waiting. In a huff, I got into my car. I texted Reed that I had left without him, but of course, he didn't reply.2

Anna's house wasn't all that big, but she had a huge pool, a deck, and a killer sound system, so she'd got a nice turnout. The house thrummed on the outside with bass from the party music.

"Darling, you made it!" Summer explained, very faux-Hollywood and obviously drunk. She gave me kisses on both cheeks.

"Nice legs," Jen teased, coming up from behind and slapping my butt. My friends did this all the time, but it still made me blush from embarrassment. To them, it was nothing. Just another form of PDA.

"Lexi-child, you look like a guuuurl." Grace was slumped over Jen's shoulder, even more white-girl-wasted than Summer, in a black bikini and a borrowed sombrero. She poked my boob. I slapped her hand away.

"What is it with you guys and touching me?" I grumbled good-naturedly. Grace shrugged, smiling with crinkled eyes.

"Where's Reed?" Summer hiccuped. I shrugged.

"Late. I had to drive myself. But Matt just texted me that he'll be here in a bit, so you guys'll meet him," I replied.

Grace had started poking my cheek and staring at it with wonder. Jen rolled her eyes.

"Your friends are making idiots of themselves."

"They're yours, too, Jenny."

"I don't claim these," Jen joked, wrinkling her nose. We laughed, and our stupefied friends just giggled obliviously.

"Alexa, hey," Matt called. He wore a white button down and navy shorts, typical party clothes for the kids around here (except his were much more expensive-looking). He looked good, but also uncomfortable. I could tell this wasn't really his scene.

"Matt! I'm so glad you came." I led him over to the slovenly pile that consisted of my friends. "I hate for you to meet them when they're, uh... like this, but this is Jen, the not-drunk one."

Jen waved, a hard task with Grace holding onto her for dear life.

"Hi, Jen," Matt greeted her, giving a salute. "Um, who are..."

"Grace and Summer. Don't ask."

Anna threw a good party, I'll give her that. I usually only come to parties because Grace and Summer always get drunk and need a designated driver. I never really enjoy parties, but I had fun at this one. I almost forgot that Reed still hadn't texted me. Almost.

I don't know why this happened, because I'm usually not the type to make such an utterly dumb decision, but I wandered upstairs. It only took around two minutes for some drunk pervert to push me up against the wall and start breathing on my neck with a sweaty hand plastered against my face. My screams were under his right hand, and the left squeezed my butt.1

"Are those screams for me?" he sneered, his sour breath fanning across my face.
I rolled my eyes, spit a loogie in his hand, and then bit him. "Get your hands off me!" I grunted, pushing the guy away. His cries were of disgust mixed with pain. I walked away feeling so cool, with a smirk on my face.

And then, I tripped on the stairs.

I heard people get louder as I tumbled; some shouting expletives, others wondering if I was okay, and the vast majority laughing. I didn't even want to take my head out from its contorted position as I slowed down and stopped in the middle of the staircase. The whole party got quiet for like, thirty seconds, but then the people lost interest, too drunk, high or just having to much fun to care.

"Hey, Alexa? Are you okay?" Matt. I was relieved to see him, and let him help me up.

"If by 'okay' you mean bruised and mortified, yeah, I'm fine."

"Who's the klutz now?" he chuckled, then squinted at me. "What were you — should I even ask?"

In the tiniest voice possible, I muttered, "Running away from a rapist."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" He chuckled and shook his head again in disbelief. I was forever getting that head-shake.

"Are you saying I'm rape-able, Matthew Carrigan?" I asked, feigning anger.

Matt's cheeks reddened so quickly, I thought his head was going to explode. It didn't.

"Oh, my God. Isn't that your friend? She looks terrible."

Grace was still in that skimpy bikini, but right now she didn't look quite as glamorous. She just looked pathetic. She was curled up in the corner, eyes glued to her phone as tears spilled out of them.

"Oh, honey."

Gracie looked up and sniffed. "Alexa. I need you to drive to the, um, the hospital." She spoke slowly, like a kid learning how to read. She was drunk beyond belief.

"Why? What's wrong with you, are you hurt?" I asked. I offered my hand to her, but she ignored it, shivering in her outfit (or lack thereof).

"No," Grace slurred. "It's not me." She looked at me with her forlorn blue eyes welling up with tears that were already leaving shiny tracks on her cheeks. "It's not me," she repeated, her voice cracking.

"It's my Daddy."

read it all thanks for wasting my time

 

[Deleted member 12669]

For the last months I have been reading and listening to several articles, jornalistic reports, podcasts, debates and interviews about the incel phenomenon in modern society, and even if the majority of them were highly against incels, I should point out that their argumentations were either wildly imprecise or relatively easy to deconstruct, but whenever there was an incel present they would not be any better at argumentations, which is somewhat understandable for even if one passes trought a very specific situation it does not mean they are some type of professional debater that will be able to defend the views that he has acquired trougth personal experience in a suficiently articulated and convincing argumentative speech. It is my hope that by sharing my reflections on this topic that I may strengthen the arguments of incels so that we can have a more productive participation on the societal debate about incels.



To begin this discussion we should observe that essentialy what inceldom is, is a symptom of the existence of sexual selection in the midst of human societal practices, I would say that to many people this is not so much of a problem to accept, and that would be true, but there is at least one group of people that this becomes somewhat of a taboo when they are beeing completely honest in the discussion, and those are the people that defend egalitarianism, sure what they usualy mean when they are defending egalitarian measures is that they don't agree with how in Captalism a person is arbitrarily born in either a rich family or a poor family and that the one born in a rich family has way more opportunities than someone born in a poor family, and how this makes many poor people work their entire lifes, many times not beeing able to leave poverty and reach the middle class while other people hardly work at all but have the privilege of beeing born into a rich family. On this note it is interesting to notice that what happened in every socialist country when they abolished Captalism and forcifully equalized the economy, instead of money being what people strived for, it became political power, for the political institutions would by then have become more stratified and with the most opportunities centralized around a political hierarchy of the state, and then again inequality emerged for those people with political power and those without, for people that were arbitrarily born into a more influent family and people that were born into a unrecognized family. Of couse, no coutry ever achieved this, but suposing one coutry were able to go trougth socialism without breaking, and were then able to implement comunism were there would be no state and therefore political power would then become equally distributed amongst the people what then would become the thing people would then strive for ? Well I am sure there could be many things but if I were to guess I would conjecture it would be sex, the differences in sexual hierarchies would be intensified creating caste systems where people that were arbitrarily born more attractive would be able to enjoy the status of a higher caste where they would have many opportunities and people that were born very unattractive would live lives as untouchables, members of the lowest caste were no opportunities would ever emerge. In this truly dystopian scenario, but nonetheless plausible for caste systems were very common in India and many other asiatic coutries, obviously there would never be any forced redistribution of sex, for it would be societal sanctioned rape which obviously is a crime ( even though every other forced redistribution of capital, and of political influence were also crimes, although one could argue that they were of different proportions) and therefore we would never really have any egalitarian utopia but only changes of through which medium inequality would arise.



All this talk about socialism and comunism has made me remember Slavoj Zizek’s article about incels (https://thephilosophicalsalon.com/the-moebius-strip-of-sexual-contracts/) and how he commits the hilarious mathematical error of saying things like "We would thus oppose the logic of universal human rights and the logic of social hierarchy as the two sides of a Moebius strip " when one of the most notorius characteristic of a moebius strip is that it only has one side, it gets even worse when after that he says "and focus on their point of intersection" (« Facepalm » ) what does he mean ??? the whole strip ??? And when you think it couldn't get any worse he begins to talk about turning and reversing shapes which only have one side, it's like some sort of mathematical torture, I know he is a specialist in Hegel and that makes him by consequence a specialist in meaninglessness and in utterly nonsensical things but this is too much. It is nothing more than the screaming example of double standards at play and nothing more, only then could he make a distinction of two things that are the same, that is, there can be no true equality if it doesn't encompass every significant thing in a person's life and that includes "politico-economic life and sex ". Although until here it may seem that I am advocating that there should be some type of enforcement of sexual partners, I would like to express how utterly appalling I think such thing is, and if you think that would be the only way to achieve equality of sexual relationships amongst everyone, then you are agreeing much more with the so called incel black pill than you are openly expressing. It is funny how the incel-normie situation resembles that of the lumpenproletariat - proletariat situation, much like how the proletarian class looks at the bourgeois class with envy, the proletarians at the same time despise and fear the lumpenproletarians for they may envy the proletarians, just like how the proletarians envy the bourgeois, and in doing so they may undermine the legitimacy of the proletarians in the class struggle and in this way prevent the Proletarian revolution.



This takes me to the question of "do incels belive they are entitled to sex ?" To which my answer would be : not any more than anyone else. I mean think for a minute, when an incel goes to declare himself to someone and ultimately gets rejected, the very rejection could only happen either because this person does not want to be in any relantionship ever, or because the person he declared himself to thinks they are entitled to someone better. Incels are not any more guilty, than they are victims of entitlement. And then one would say that there are no more reasons to belive that there should be any asymmetry between dating strategies of males and females, and that would perhaps be the case if humans layed eggs instead of adopting a gestational strategy in which the mother becomes vulnerable, which by itself, was a big problem since humans where nomadic for the greater part of our existence, and therefore there was evolutionary pressure to make females have higher standards whenever they would select their mates, to justify the risk they would have to pass through. Ok, so if this is something that has been this way since times immemorial why is inceldom a contemporary problem ? I would not say it is a contemporary problem, it is a problem which has been greatly amplified in comtemporary times in which everyone is having way fewer children because of the cost, and because it is only in contemporary times that we have seen the dismantlement of what feminists would call the patriarchy, and more conservative people would call the traditional family model and there is also the absolute abandonment of responsibility. Those things contribute first to women beeing more picky as a return to those more primordial instincts in these times in which it has become so expensive to have children, and along with the understanding that stability together with responsibility are in the decline, making women in general choose a much more select group of men, and beeing with any one of them by much less time. Creating a whole mass of women that have not been in many, if any, long therm relationships, a group of men that have relative easy acess to as many relationships as they desire and another group of men that have each time less and less chance of being in a relationship. Returning to the question of entitlement, if there is such a thing as a belief of entitlement to sex that is supported by a whole subsection of the population then we have to look for the origin of this belief, and although many people would go quite trigger happy to say that the source of this entitlement is this forum and others like it, I wouldn't be so sure of this, for a forum only reverberates opinions and narrative images that are already existent in society, this problem, if it exists at all, is much more profound than that, it has to do with the socialization process, and to better illustrate what I mean by saying that I will make reference to a personal experience, not because I think this will prove anything about how everyone behaves, for it is certainly statistically insignificant, nevertheless I belive this report will bring to light the superstructure of values and beliefs present in contemporary society that does much more to foster this entitlement than it does to sever it, that is to say that although statistically insignificant I belive my report not to be meaningfully insignificant.



When I was in High School I remember that in the first of a series of classes about sex education there were phrases profered such as "Since everyone in here will sooner or later have a sexual relationship ..." and "sex is a fundamental part of every healthy lifestyle" and many other like-minded sentences, since in my family I have an uncle that, differently from every other adult in my family, was not married and I remember the day that I, as a young boy, asked my mother why that was and she said that he was never able to date anyone and that he had given up on actively search for love, but she was sure that one day the right person would show up in his life. To me he was always an example of person living an alternative lifestyle, one that was as much valid as any other, for he was, and still is, one of the happiest people that I have ever know.



As I grew up I found out that he as a teenager studied in high school at morning and had began working part-time at evening, and once he had finished High school he began working full time in a factory and was living with my grandmother until he had saved enough money to buy his own house, but by his late twenties my grandfather died and he took the responsibility, as the oldest son, of economically helping my grandmother. Acording to my grandmother he never had had a girlfriend and she used to joke that because of that he had become grumpy. As time had passed he knew nothing but rejections in every declaration of love he had ever made, until he had enough of it and stopped caring about love all together. My uncle was what we would call today an incel. Today he is 78 years old and lives a simple retired life, he likes to buy old watches and repair them if so they need and then he sells them at slightly higher prices than for what he purchased, he goes on walks in parks and plays chess.



When I was having the first class in sex education and the teacher kept implying that sex was a inevitability, initially I thought about myself and how I have never had a girlfriend or even any type of close relationship with a girl and how I couldn't imagine my future self being any better than my then current self in this regard, and then I thought about my uncle and how his situation was the perfect counterexample of what that teacher had said, and then, having become somewhat troubled by what she was saying, I asked : "Teacher, you have been making several generalisations about how everyone will someday need to know all this information about sex, but what about those people that do not wish to have sex or what about the people that will never in fact be able to be in a sexual relationship ? Isn't this type of information useless to them ? I mean there are all kinds of important information about self preservation that we don't talk about, like airplanes or ships safety precautions or workplace safety procedures or even how to be careful about possible legal loopholes that might ruin someone's life, and yet we do not talk about these topics, probably because we do not think that they are applicable to everyone in here, so why is it that this classes are obligatory if there are people for which this information is useless and these classes are nothing more than lost time? and why is it that you have not mentioned abstinence as a prevention method ? " to which she answered : "It is important to learn about sex because even though presently you may not want to have sex, one day when you meet the right person this information will be useful, you may be doubting now about what I am talking but it is not as if we choose for whom we will fall for." this answer made me really unconfortable back then and reflecting about it made me realise that society as a whole is in large part to blame about people believing that they are entitled to sex, people feed hope of a better romantic future, many times in direct oposition to what every shred of evidence seems to indicate, to those who have difficulties with romance with talks like “ you don’t need to be worried about being rejected you just have to be yourself and one day someone who values you for what you are will appear.” and “you are a nice person you just need to wait until someone realises that.” and “ I’m sure that if you did X you would be much more in evidence and people would notice all the other great aspects about you” and “the right person for you is somewere out there you just have to find them” etc.



We drown people with all these hopes and promises and then we become infuriated if they ever complain about how they think life is unfair for not manifesting love to them as it does to the vast majority of other people, we say to they then “you are not entitled to sex” and “of course nobody will want you if you have that attitude” among other things, this is simply a image of how hypocrite and full of double standards society really is, in a first moment out of pity and some times as a form of doing away with a annoying situation, we offer this blind hope to those people in such a way as to make we not need to feel guilty with ourselves for our accomplishments and to not have to deal with any annoying and complicated thing as the romantic frustrations of another person, but in fact we don’t know if any of those promisses we made will ever be fulfilled and to begin with there is no way we can know about those things, and when all this hope we gave to those people backlashes we become offended or we laugh and ridicule that which we ourselves fostered.



That being said, I don’t tink there is anyone who actually thinks that they are entitled to sex in as much as there is people that recognise that intimacy is a type of fundamental human need and that people deserve to have such needs fulfilled. This understanding that intimacy is a fundamental human need can be very well observed in those people that go to psychologists and decide to talk about their romantic shortcomings, and the answer of the psychologist is never to say: “Get the hell out of my consultory! You are not entitled to sex or intimacy or romantic appreciation, if you have not yet understood this, I advise you to stop being a cry baby and deal with it !”. The problem about fundamental human needs and if these needs implicate rights is a difficult and important debate, especially for those that honestly hold a more egalitarian ethos, but it is not one that I will tackle in these reflections. To be completely fair then I will assume that someone that, trough the contrapositive of a belief arrive at another, that is to say, if someone believes that “I don’t deserve to live in solitude” it implies the belief that “I deserve companionship “, and since I consider that the original belief is as valid as the belief that “I don’t deserve anything “ that implies “I don’t deserve companionship “, leaves me to conclude that it is as fair to think that one does not deserve companionship as it is to think that one deserves.



Another story from when I was in High School is about one day in which we, the students, were handed a survey about our future aspirations and some of the questions were in multiple choice format, in particular one of those questions were “What is your most important objective in life ?”, amongst the answers were things like having a successful career, having a comfortable life with many travels trough the world, living a balanced life with no lack’s and no excess, and also there was a option that said “to marry, establish a family and have kids.”, initially I had read this sentence with a certain disregard, perhaps because at that time I already had a notion, based on what I had witnessed by then, of how my future would be like, and It had made the very notion of “establishing a family” as not something one could ever strive for, that is to say, it wasn’t anything that one could ever direct any work or effort towards, people would just live their lives and dedicate themselves to their ambitions, and only if one such people had the luck of meeting with someone that not only they liked but that also liked them in return, would then one be able to “establish a family”, in a sense this were a random event that could or could not occur within one's person lifetime, it is not something that has a continuous progression and therefore it is not something that one could rush towards as a objective, because there isn’t even any direction to rush towards. In my mind only those emotionally needy people would choose that option, those people that don’t seem to be able to be alone for any amount of time, and that always seem to be dating someone, and that make periodic references to their significant other and how they wished they were together in that specific moment. These people seem to be afraid of being alone or of even loneliness itself, it is the type of people that would say that their biggest fear is to die alone, and in saying that forgets that in life the majority of people are born alone and die alone, and they kind of contemn the lives of those people that live their entire life in solitude. With my disregard towards people that would choose the alternative “to marry, establish a family and have kids.”, I openly expressed my opinion about what I thought of that to my two best friends, it so happened that one of them had chosen that option in his survey, we then entered a discussion about how in my opinion that was a pathetic objective, and my friend rightly pointed out that what is important to each person is subjective which put me in a position where I had to concede that he had won the argument, and although in that moment I still didn’t think that objective to be worthy of being the most important to anyone, that for me was still the aspirations of cattle not of (mostly) rational human beings, but as time went on I began to see from new points of perspective this aspiration and began to not think so lowly of people who thought of constituting a family as their main objective in life and in fact at some point I began to accept that as valid as any other objective people might have in life, things like thinking about how according to several economists one of the main factors that move the economy is in fact the establishment of families, which generates many demands that in turn creates jobs to increase the supply and in this way equilibrates prices, other perspective that was quite enlightening was that of looking towards my own parents to which I am indebted for the rest of my life for having cared for me throughout my whole childhood and adolescence and how they sacrificed many things in favor of securing better opportunities in life to me and my siblings, than that which they themselves had, and they did that because their biggest objective in life is the well-being of their family, having benefited myself from such a life ambition how could I criticize others that may wish to follow the same objective ?



Obviously I can’t. And so I have come to terms with people who have their main ambition in life “to marry, establish a family and have kids.”, but immediately we arrive at a problem, take this friend of mine as a example, my social life in High School was mainly interacting with people who had the same problems to fit in with the rest of the class as myself, and this friend of mine was not different in this sense, I have kept in contact with the majority of my friends of High School and with my two best friends, and even now many years after we graduated High School and University none of us has ever had any relationships, even my friend which his biggest dream is to marry and constitute a family wasn’t able to even have a girlfriend in all of this time, so, even though it is not my life, I still think we have to reflect about this cases in which a person begins to see the years and years go by and their humble, if I may say so, life's dream appearing to be every time farther and farther away of being realized, can someone really be angry at the thought of someone in this situation gets disenchanted with life, and sometimes by doing so, begins to resent people in general ? Since I am talking so much about High School let me make an analogy with one of my particular experiences in High School, do any of you know how it feels like when you like something let’s say an group sport like soccer or basketball for example, but every time people would make the teams you were always the last one to be selected ? Well I know very well how this feels because that last person to be selected was always me, I used to like to play volleyball with my family in a volleyball court that was close to home, I never was very athletic but I liked to play, but as I began to play volleyball, any sport really but I liked volleyball in particular, in PE class in Middle School and High School I was always the last one to be chosen for any team and during the game all my teammates always treated me as some type of dead weight that they had to carry, and it was by observing their behavior towards me that little by little I not only stopped liking volleyball, but it became the sport that I hated, and still hate, the most. The feeling of being treated as if you are incapable of any positive collaboration to the victory of the team, the sporadic occasions in which a member of your team noticed how sad you were at not being able to participate in the game and purposely let you touch the ball, only to make themselves feel better for what they were doing, as if that was some act of charity they were performing. It all got to my nerves at some point and all I could feel every time I played volleyball was how little my classmates thought of me.


One can make a parallel between my description of the games of volleyball on my School years to what happened to my friend that had as his main ambition in life “to marry, establish a family and have kids.” in his adult life, except that in life no one is obligated to accept you just because you have offered yourself, so were you to be the last to be selected, in fact you just wouldn’t be selected at all, and that is what happened to him ( it also happened to me ). And sometimes when his Parents or his work colleagues noticed how lonely he were they would try to arrange to him a date with some women, and when he ultimately didn’t succeed at making a girlfriend, they would go to him and criticize him for letting such a chance let go like that, as if they were doing some type of charity to him. Could you really get mad at him for resenting those people who always seemed to reject him and also those people that felt bad for seeing the contrast between their lives and that of my friend and “mercifully” decided to offer him some time of emotional charity by arranging a date with some single woman they knew, only to not have to witness the loneliness of others.



Another topic that I have been thinking about was about how we model our understanding of the existence of incels in society, and since I have been watching several lectures of Jordan Peterson, I have been interested in the Jungian idea that at the most primitive and/or fundamental level we human beings model the world trough the use of archetypes, it then stimulated me to think about which character would best represent the incel archetype ? Thinking about it quite meticulously it came to mind at least two stories that had major characters that we would today categorize as incels, those would be The Hunchback of Notre Dame’s Quasimodo and Cyrano de Bergerac’s Cyrano. Although Each of the stories have their own qualities and defects, through the semiotics of inceldom both characters are the representation of one societal occurrence, that is the utterly bankruptcy of Ethics at the predilection of Aesthetics, and as such I ultimately would have to choose Quasimodo as the better representative of the incel archetype, given the genius of Victor Hugo there is actually a passage in which Quasimodo leaves two vases in the window of Esmeralda’s room “One was a very beautiful and very brilliant but cracked crystal vase. It had allowed the water with which it had been filled to escape, and the flowers which it contained were withered. The other was an earthenware pot, coarse and common, but which had preserved all its water, and its flowers remained fresh and crimson. I know not whether it was done intentionally, but Esmeralda takes the withered flowers from the crystal vase and presses them passionately on her heart for the entirety of the day.”. This symbolism represents almost perfectly the incel conundrum, this behavior of Esmeralda is the behavior of the vast majority of females, and although we cannot say that every incel can be described as a person that is internally akin to vibrant flowers that remained fresh and crimson, even if we were to exclude those that are morally corrupt, which seem to be homogeneously distributed trough all social groups, there would still be those that have scarred hearts from their previous failures, although the vast majority of incels have been naive and hopeful at some time in their lives, this naivety progressively becomes a presupposition of malice and this hope becomes scorn, that is to say, can one honesty believe that a unkept flower in a uncracked earthenware pot would not shrivel, dry and die ? Given that it’s necessities were not being fulfilled in a very long time (perhaps even never) ?



The usual reading of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, from my experience, looks with disdain towards the indirect rejection he suffers from Esmeralda, some people look at that and categorize it as a simple sexist instance of “it’s tragic because he didn’t get the girl”, where the situation is not anywhere that straight up, to quote Jordan Peterson on rejection: “It is a real judgement, at best it would be like: while I don’t mind your physical presence, your genes should definitely not survive another generation”, and if that was all perhaps that would be okay, but that is not all that happens, Esmeralda chooses Phoebus instead of choosing Quasimodo or even not choosing anyone at all, she rejects Quasimodo despite all of his good intentions and chooses Phoebus regardless of his egotistical intent. Why does she do that ? This has already been answered in these reflections, it is because se makes an aesthetic judgement and not an ethical one, Quasimodo is judged for his ugly and deformed appearance, of which he had virtually no choice, and Phoebus is judged for his handsomeness, of which he had been gifted without having done anything to deserve such blessing. Other people see that as a pathetically obvious result: “what did he expect ? Esmeralda is way out of his league, he should just accept that and hope that he finds someone that is just as ugly and deformed as himself, if that is even possible, and why should I even care for such a story ? The vast majority of the population, including myself, is neither deformed or that ugly and never have passed or will pass though such a life.”, whilst ignoring it’s own connotation as wildly discriminatory and sickly eugenic, much like Plato in his Republic: “It follows from our former admissions that the best men must mate with the best women in as many cases as possible, while the opposite should hold of the worst men and women; and that the offspring of the former should be reared, but not that of the latter, if our flock is going to be an eminent one. And all this must occur without anyone knowing except the rulers ... So then, we will have to establish by law certain festivals and sacrifices at which we will bring together brides and bridegrooms, and our poets must compose suitable hymns for the marriages that take place. ... I imagine that some sophisticated lotteries will have to be created, then, so that the inferior man of that sort will blame chance rather than the rulers at each mating time. ... And presumably, the young men who are good at war or at other things must —among other prizes and awards — be given a greater opportunity to have sex with the women, in order that a pretext may also be created at the same time for having as many children as possible fathered by such men.”, this is said by Plato, one of the most influential philosophers of the western world, so it is not that strange that people with such eugenic thoughts still exist and many times do not even realize the dangerous similarities between these two views, to simply accept this imposed hierarchy is not any better than to be like sheep that cannot begin to fathom the intentions of the shepherd.



That leaves us to think why is it exactly that almost every decision one can make is subjectable to ethics, with the notorious exception of romantic/sexual judgments, it is at this intersection between a unscrupulous pursuit of one’s desire and a prudent restriction towards ethical conduct, that the intellectual dishonesty begins, because there are considerable interests at stake, therefore the very notion of ethics in the judgment of romantic partners is discarded and this rustic, amorphous, sometimes even mystical, and a priori unprincipled imagery of what is love is pushed forward as a means to justify partial/biased judgment and to crush dissent among those that are at the margin in this aspect of life. This imagery is propaganda, and just like any propaganda, it seeks to create a narrative that encourages complacency towards the present status quo and vilifies the desistance of pursuit of those success goals that have been dictated by the narrative. That is why there are people that having been exposed to the narrative that effort is not only necessary, but sufficient to achieve economical success, for example, these people that take contemporary society to be a complete meritocracy, can pass by a homeless person and not only they become incapable of being sympathetic towards the difficult situation that those in misery pass through every day, but take that as a just sentence, for if those people had been committed and hardworking they wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with, as they are it can only mean that they haven’t been those things, that they haven’t put enough effort to free themselves from poverty in which case they are only experiencing that which they deserve and one should only feel repugnance and aversion towards those people.



If anyone thinks that this is only exaggeration and a way to justify an inferiority complex, or as people in my country say a mutt complex, if you think so I suggest to you to make a thought experiment, imagine you had to cheer up Quasimodo that was sad because of his loneliness, could you honestly tell him things like “You just have to keep trying to find your soulmate, she is definitely out there.”, would you really think that was the case for someone that deformed ? And if you would say that what makes you think that this situation is any different from that which was jokingly pointed out by George Carlin in one of his jokes about prisons where he said something like “Everybody more or less agree that we need more prisons, some people even scream 'BUILD MORE PRISONS ! ... but not in here.' “. It is like those people that keep saying how people should be seeking love because they believe that society is full of bitter and resentful people , but then feel insulted if anyone they don’t fancy ever declare romantic feelings towards them. This characterizes a insidious cycle where society at large advocates for love as a fundamental element of having a successful life, and then there is a number of people that fail at that, and then society reaffirms love and then surprisingly enough more people seem to fail and then not only society reinforces this idea of love, they condemn those that fail at it, this is what is happening in Japan where an ever increasing number of men are not able to find female romantic partners, which then reflects negatively in the number of births which then begins to affect the economy of the country, another bizarre phenomenon that is happening there is that the number and popularity of female aimed brothels, or as they call it there Host clubs, that although also exist in the male oriented forms, they don’t reach the ridiculous proportion that the female oriented Host Clubs have achieved where there are literally huge billboards promoting the most popular “hosts”(gigolos) outdoors in clear day light , and then some people begin to complain that this situation is unique to Japan and that the situation on the vast majority of the world is different from that, and that may be true presently, but what they fail to see is that the demographics of present day Japan accurately represents the projections for the immediate future of all developed countries and that it already began to show in developing countries as well, so we would better learn what can be learned from Japan's situation because we will pass trough that soon enough.



Returning to how ethics has lost to aesthetics in the dating landscape, we may depart from a rational ethical analysis from what we experience in our failed attempts at dating, and the most recurring basis for rejection is not behavior or education or dedication, these things only achieve critical importance once two people have already begun dating, the thing that really works like a filter is attractiveness, which fundamentally means looks, knowing this we may begin this ethical analysis by asking what it means to exert judgment on other people mainly trough aesthetics, and that is, what makes anyone more aesthetically pleasing than another person ? Is it the actions that one chooses to take ? Is it the way one thinks about things ? Is it the behavior one upholds ? Is it the personality one has developed throughout his life ? Or is it one's physical appearance which was primarily defined by his genetics at the moment of birth, and secondly by the environment in which he grew up, both of which are random events in which one doesn’t have any influence over ?



Supposing one has honestly answered those previous questions can anyone say that the physical appearance is not a fundamental factor towards attractiveness ? If one still doesn’t agree then imagine yourself honestly telling that to Quasimodo, that is, if you were even capable of that. Still in this topic of attractiveness, a strange phenomenon that has been happening since about the 1990's when the percieved beauty standards for males changed radically. Generaly it is women that complain about the unattainability of such ideals, what is obviously a statistically and ethical valid complaint and one that I will take as a given, yet although unattainable they can hardly be said to be unfeminine, if for anything, the unattainability of such female standards arises from the exaggeration of the feminine to unrealistic levels, where as the contemporary beauty standard for males is almost entirely unmasculine in it's nature. The common feature shared by most male models of female oriented magazines is that, with the exception of their musculature and their jawbone that tend to be accentuated, they resemble some type of androgynous angel-like figure, having therefore more feminine traits in opposition to those biologically induced by characteristic masculine hormones like testosterone. In conclusion while women complaints of beauty standards are based in the fact that the cutoff region of what is considered attractive in the multivariate distribution of feminine aspects is so narrow that they become unrealistic, although the variables of the distribution are in principle still comparable throughout, if not all, the vast majority of women; Where as with men the problem lies in the fact that there is a break between men who have in their appearance those feminine dimensions capable of mustering an androgynous look, which has become attractive as of late, and those who doesn't have this dimension to them, and in this discrete, discontinuous classification we have men being forsaken not because they don't lie within some range on the scales of attractiveness, but because they are not even on many of those scales to begin with, that is, some times it is not only because someone is on the lower strata that they are rejected in favor of someone else, sometimes it is just because they aren't even comparable in the first place, and this is a big problem because, may people like it or not, there are way more people that look like Quasimodo than there are people that look like angels anyway.



One fascinating exemple of how ethics becomes mixed with aesthetics occurs when a feminist calls all men pigs (or at least some portion of men), is the identification of a men with the figure of a pig a ethical judgement or an aesthetical one ? It almost seems as if the problem was not the actions perpetuated by those men but their aesthetics, that those actions would be somewhat acceptable, were practiced by some Christian Grey of Fifty Shades of Grey instead of some random creep. Still talking about those feminists, there is much talk about how women should just wear whatever they want and that they shouldn't be demurred by any possible sexual aggressor, after all the guilt of any aggression is always of the aggressor (which is a correct assessment, of course), nevertheless it should be pointed out that this type of discourse has many times promoted debauchery and demoted prudency, and this is a problem because, although the guilt of the aggression is of the aggressor, we have to remember ourselves that sexual impulses are not triggered by rationality and logic (hah, we wish that were the case, imagine if things were so simple and reasonable as solving numerous logic problems from a set of "propositional calculi" « See what i did there ? » ), but by instinct, so that it only takes a person with bad judgement for a tragedy to happen, is it really okay to encourage women to make themselves preferential prey to those molesters ? One thing is to envision an idealized society, another one entirely is to advocate unprudent behaviour in the real world. In the extreme end of feminism we find organizations such as Femen wich proclaims to fight against the malice of the patriarchy, only to do so with malice of their own and to fight malice with malice can only increase the total amount of malice in the world.



So we have people judging other people mainly trough randomly assigned traits, considering, of course, that even those who can improve themselves into becoming more attractive have first to have the potential to become more attractive, and this potential is equally randomly assigned. We have then to ask ourselves if this is ethical, which it is not, for it is an arbitrary judgment, and knowing that we must ask ourselves what can be done to remedy this unjust behavior, obviously we could not force or coerce people to change this, for it would be equally not ethical, the only thing we can really do is to accept the way things are and to take our own judgment upon this unethical situation. One thing that I have seen recently that has made me a little irritated was this, rather vulgar, video by BuzzFeed (), the guy in the video is certainly not a very ethical person by what is portrayed of him thinking, but for a second forget what he thinks and what he does in his privacy, no one else in the real world would know that to begin with, what I think is the most irritating thing is the part where he buys a watch to gift to the coworker that he belives he is developing feelings for, even if it is in his own twisted way, and when he finally goes to give the gift to her, he freezes and is not able to say anything and she gets uncomfortable with that and walks away, at the next moment we see him in the HR being scolded for inappropriate behaviour, since when does trying to give a watch to someone constitutes inappropriate behaviour ? It is as Roger Scruton has once said (), as society is tending towards becoming less and less civilized, romantic relationships begin to stop requiring a previous period of courtship and become each time more dreadfully direct, or how Roger Scruton said “Nowadays, of course, sexual harassment just means sexual advances made by the unattractive, who are the majority, so you know, there is a huge injustice in this.”.



Going back to the topic of how incels are seen by society, we may spend days and days arguing about how every time there is, for a lack of a better word, a public exhibition of the subject there is always a permeating hypocrisy of some sort, either they think we are just “bad losers” in a way, that just because we aren’t able to date anyone we think it is alright to be whining about how we couldn’t achieve that which we wished, and how this is only because the world is unjust and so on, when in fact the majority of them revert right back to this state whenever their established relationships crumble, and in this moment they don’t think that in fact they are just whining and that they should just “buckle up, kiddo”, or when people are so reductionist to the point that they say we incels are just frustrated because we can’t get laid and begin talking about how this is some justification for why prostitution should be legalized, when in fact just because something is illegal it doesn’t mean it is impossible to find, prostitution, much like illegal drugs, is not that difficult to find if you are actually looking for it, these people forget about the deepest existential question that is in fact what really desolate the incels, these people just say this because they have had the privilege of having had their emotional needs fulfilled and reassured by this they have taken the liberty of dissociating one thing with the other, and having had their emotional needs fulfilled they begin to only think about sex and their sexual desires instead of the more basic, humane, problem. In the last case people just assume that if someone is rejected by everyone they have ever approached, then that means they are some type of freaks that should just lay down and rot, after all the word of the people have been ushered, and the word of the people is law. But jokes aside, I wish to talk about one opinionated person in particular, Natalie Wynn the transexual woman of the YouTube channel ContraPoints, in her video about incels () to which many people took to be a pondered, even perhaps conciliatory, stand on the question of inceldom, yet, although better than the majority of the expositions of the topic she still makes fundamental mistakes about incels, in particular in the part about how the black pill is just catastrophizing, or how she exposed it as being defined by psychotherapists as “A cognitive distortion where anxiety or depression leads you to infer apocalyptic conclusions from mundane setbacks and anxieties.”, every incel reading this might instantly see where the problem in that is, it only gets worse when she gives the first example of such a situation, she says to consider a person that is late for work and that from that they get to the conclusion that they and their hole family are going to die because of that, later on she tries to show how the black pill is just another scenario of catastrophizing, except that it isn’t as simple, consider first her first example, sure one person who once got late may not get fired because of that, but what about someone that is always late ? In fact forget the whole scenario where this person is employed in the first place, this scenario is already too reassuring to begin with, consider instead someone that is unemployed and has always been and the reason that that is so is amongst other things that they seem to always get late to their work interviews, let’s say that happens because they live in a city that has a serious problem of traffic congestion, since this person has not been able to get a job until now it would not be strange if they accepted that their chances of being able to get a job are low, and if they aren’t able to get a job soon they and their family are soon enough starve to death, of course this put in this way has a simple solution, just wake up early!, but let’s talk about something more real, in Brazil there has been a economic crisis that has subsisted over the last five or so years, and that has generated a somewhat new class of labor force categorization, roughly speaking there are the employed, the unemployed and the dismayed (in portuguese “desalentados”) that have given up on looking for a job and that according to the IBGE (Brazilian Institute of Geography and Statistics) has estimated to be around 4.8 millions of Brazilians in the last year (2018) estimates. Which only demonstrates how giving up at situations of an overwhelming number of rejections is not some type of silly catastrophizing, it is something more close to a natural reaction towards this ubiquitous presence of rejection, but let’s go back to Natalie's description of the black pill, she begins with saying that experiences of rejection and isolation, where she doesn’t quantify this, making it seem as if it is just some experiences of rejection and isolation and not the only thing one has experienced, then she says one might infer that one’s unattractive to women, what may seem a plausible inference from someone that has had some experiences of rejection but is quite certain for someone who only has experienced this, then she goes on to say that from this one may conclude that they will be attractive to any woman, which again is a very big jump for someone who has had some experiences of rejection, but it is not that big of a inference jump for someone who was only experienced rejection, she then goes on to say things that are not inferences but deductions from the last inference in points 4-You will be forever alone; 5-You will always be Unhappy; and 6-Women did this to you. And then she goes on to talk about some points that can try to explain why would things be in such a way as to allow someone to come at those previous conclusions, that is points 7-feminism empowered women to do this to you; 8-The social trends that made this possible are only getting worse; And then there is that last conclusion that I will take the liberty of rewriting as 9-Humanity itself, as understood to be the association of every human being as equally “human” and therefore equally deserving of existence, nutrition, education, housing, friendships and love; is therefore Doomed. Having reach this conclusion is it really that strange if someone were to begin to think that the only thing that one can do in this overwhelming scenario where one is faced with nothing more than the perception and understanding of impotence towards the status quo of things ? That figuratively, in this scenario of powerlessness, the only thing one can do is to lie down and rot ? She then goes on to make rampant generalizations about how incels could stop being incels, or how she puts it “Mom the shit out of them.”, if they just socialized more, made some friends, ..., and many more standard discriminatory assumptions that people in general make and that they think they have the solution to. But to be frank I don’t dislike completely her video, compared to what other people have said she is almost comprehensive in this video, and if it were not for her latest video on Beauty (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=n9mspMJTNEY) I would probably not being criticizing her now, but in this video she simply tries to justify why when she makes a plastic surgery it is alright, but when it is an incel that does one it is not because of the pressures of society, it is purely because they want to have sex with women and that they think that by doing that they will have their lives become meaningful, not because perhaps they would wish some amount of love in their dispassionate lives, but then again there is that one frase Natalie said in her penultimate video, what was it again ? .... oh, right it was that it’s “just a privileged person with a platform punching down at a politically besieged group he understands nothing about.” (here it has to be noted that her video on Incels is her most seen video.), after all if you can point out to people that never had a relationship how meaningless it all is and how it wouldn’t bring any meaning into your life anyway, is it alright for her then if we just faced every couple head on and said that their affection towards one another is really just a delusion that their relationship will foster them with any meaning in their shallow meaningless lives, just like a proper cynic would do ? I suspect not !


Another problem with Natalie exposition is that a part of the reason that she went through plastic surgery was because she wanted to be more beautiful and attractive, and how she wanted to look more like a woman, but that doesn’t seem to be ethically acceptable, if we were to consider a person who doesn’t like their ethnicity and would wish to make themselves look more like a ethnicity they liked more, would it be ethical to allow this person to pass trough treatments for skin whitening and facial reconstruction just to look more like a given ethnicity, would it not only be the expression of a societal racism that was then internalized by this person, and shouldn’t they be stopped and made understand that ethnicity is simply not something that should characterize anyone as this or that, and that they can in fact be whatever they want without having to reshape themselves to serve the perception of other people ? In this case shouldn’t Natalie just keep herself the way she was because of the same reasons ? What is it that really matters how one sees one’s self or how others see them or how one changes the way they see themselves based on how other people see them? These are difficult questions, but they are questions that demand answers as soon as possible because they are of fundamental importance to guarantee that everything is coherent. You see there was this very famous British mathematician called G.H. Hardy that, tell the stories, hated to look at his own face in the mirror and every time he would travel, he would ask for the hotel to cover all mirrors in his quarters with towels so that he wouldn’t have to keep staring at his own face. Some people today would certainly say that the cause for that is a psychological disorder and that he should go to a psychologist and solve that



Having faced several rejections, the majority of which didn’t provide any constructive criticism, although there were several instances of conveyed disgust, one still has to hear criticism of this sort: “Your belief that you will never find anyone who would love you is absurd, you cannot give up, you just have to keep trying even if it takes a hundred or a thousand tries, once you find someone who accepts you that will be all that will matter and all those rejections will be meaningless.”. Although it is sad to burst the bubble of such a Happy go lucky though, we have to face the facts nevertheless, and the fact is that the more rejections one has the lowest are his chances of actually being accepted by someone, it is just basic probability theory, considering that for any given person the number of attempts to get a girlfriend is too low to estimate the exact probability of him being accepted at any given occasion, we have to use the best expectation of such a result that we can make with the limited number of trials such a person has experienced, and the way to do that is with Bayesian probabilities, that is by the use of Bayes’ Law to update the initial expectations. To better illustrate this I will present an example, let us say that a young and naive boy would like to find the probability of him being accepted or rejected by a girl when he confesses, because he is very naive his first expectation is that there is as much chance of him being accepted as there is of him being rejected as he thinks to himself: “I don’t think there is any particular reason for me being rejected as also there isn’t any for me being accepted.”, and then he experiences his first rejection and says to himself: “Well, although that was sad, according to my expectation that was as probable as any other outcome”. As time goes on he finds that all five of his confessions ended in rejections and thinks to himself that the chances of that would be about 3.1% with the assumptions he had made, it can be that he was just unlucky, but he decides to make use of Bayes’ Law to update his expectation values of acceptance and rejection, since those trials can only result in discrete combinations of yes or no answers and because the number of possible candidates is so large that we can make the small approximation that there is reposition, which implies the need of the use of a binomial distribution to represent the chances of being accepted in a given number of trials, which when put into Bayes' Law, with the use of the Product Law of probabilities, can then be easily shown to be proportional to the initial guess of distribution of the acceptance (or conversely of the rejection) times a beta distribution with a normalization factor, I took the liberty of plotting the graphs for a given initial distribution of the acceptance probability and its evolution as one keeps getting rejected, in blue we have the probability density of the acceptance probability and in green we have the cumulative of such a probability density:

As one can see there is a clear tendency of the distribution to the right, that means that with every rejection the expected probability of a acceptance gets smaller and smaller, parting from a very conservative initial expectation distribution for the probability of an acceptance with a mean on 50% chance, we get that 15 consecutive rejections, and no acceptance since the beginning, later we have a 70% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 10%; and 20% of chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 2%.

Should one get 20 consecutive rejections with no acceptance since the beginning, we get that there is a 70% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 7%; with a 20% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 1%. It can be shown that this distribution uniformly converges to a class of distributions so called (Bounded) Pareto Distributions, which are sometimes mistakenly said to have the 80% to 20% rule, but this is only the case for exactly one Pareto Distribution and need not be the one we are getting.



I had a friend that once told me he had 34 consecutive rejections since he had begun trying to get a girlfriend, so only for curiosity I made the calculations and there is a 90% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 7%; and a 20% chance that the probability of being accepted is between 0% and 0.7% that is to say that there is a 1/5 chance that on average* only 1 girl out of the next 142 girls he decides to declare to will accept., (*) considering as if the 0.7% were a larger concentration of probabilities, which is not the case, for it is in the 0% that there are bigger concentrations of probabilities. That may not seem soooo bad but we have to consider that we begun with a very naive and unrealistic guess at what the distribution of the acceptance probability would be like, had we begun with a homogeneous distribution or a distribution that was more centered at rejection we would have gotten way worse results. One funny paper that should not be taken as serious because the writer is too picky and his calculations are imprecise and uses outdated data is the paper entitled "Why I will never have a girlfriend" by Tristan Miller wich can be found at his web site at https://logological.org/girlfriend. So if we can take anything from the last exposition is that it doesn't matter if my probabilities are precisely correct what really matters is that if one person were to be completely rational about it's prospects of finding a girlfriend the weight of all the rejections he had ever witnessed are in fact evidences that his chances are not any good, and that with every rejection his percieved chances of success can only get worse.

FUCK OFF THIS WAS SO ANNOYING TO SCROLL THROUGH

 

[volcelfatcel]

FUCK OFF THIS WAS SO ANNOYING TO SCROLL THROUGH

I'm flattered that you would make a meme about me, but it's really inaccurate.

I've never been rejected because I've never reallly focused on approaching women because before my bimax, I was really insecure about my looks because I had an underbite. However, there was one time at a 5 star hotel where I saw a girl I was attracted to and approached her and she didn't reject me, she gave me her contact information and she was really nice, but I was too insecure to make the next move.
The same thing happened with another girl at that hotel, however I didn't approach her but I played beach volleyball with her and some other people, she was really attracted to me but I was too insecure to make my move again.

That was back in late december 2016 (a few days before christmas), then in 2017 I had a semester at my pre university where I met a decent looking palestinian girl who was really attracted to me, more than any other girl had been before, so much so that she approached me and always made the first move, but because I was insecure I rejected her. Also, in that same year I had been mocked for my looks by some girls that I met, one time at the 5 star hotel where a 30 year old scottish girl who was getting married said I was really skinny, and another time in the same class that I met the palestinian girl, a blonde girl in our group wasn't happy that a girl was attracted to me and made fun of the fact that I had tinder, probably because she thought I was too ugly to succeed on tinder.

Then, nothing really happened during the rest of 2017, but on July 9th 2018 I had my bimax done, it took me around 1 month to recover, then it took me another 8-9 months for my face to not be bloated. But even when it was a bit bloated still (a few months after the surgery), I saw that a girl was checking me out and it was a girl that was in my class from 2017, she had recognized me probably and was more attracted to me now even though I was invisible in her eyes before. I know because, most people that I knew from high school or elsewhere would act like they didn't know who I was when they saw me in public, because in high school I was famous for the wrong reason (I got really drunk and had an hangover at the after prom party which was in 2015).

Then, for the rest of 2018, nothing happened. In 2019, I found a job at a warehouse as a forklift operator and worked there for 9 months and nothing really happened that year except that in October 2019, I received IOIs from a Becky when I was at the DMV to register my first car and get my plates.

Then, in January 2020, I had a skiing class where I received intense IOIs from a really hot 8/10 girl immediately when she saw me, and I went up to her to introduce myself but I was really shy and it showed and she quickly lost interest and forgot about me, especially when i got downgraded to the intermediate class while she went in the advanced class. I was really experienced and good at that sport but I hadn't practiced since 2012, so my skills were very rusty.

Then in February and March 2020, there was a girl that I constantly saw at one of my classes who was also an 8/10 and she was really attracted to me, so much so that she would look at me for the entire class and play with her hair at the same time, but I ignored her because I thought she was only trying to get my attention, it was only after the quarantine had started that I realized that she was sending me intense IOIs to make me approach her because she liked me.

I always had a ton of opportunities, being skinny isn't a failo, muscles don't matter as much as height and face, a friend of mine from elementary school who looks similar to me always had more success with girls because he was more confident than I was and even as a little kid he wasn't afraid to talk to girls, he didn't care about getting rejected, and as a result, he was always the coolest and most popular guy in school. And to this day, when I look at his facebook, I see that he still lives that life, most of the girls are beckies and high tier beckies but he has lots of success even though he is skinny and not a Chad.

Also, I write a lot because I have a lot of things to say about a wide variety of topics, and low effort posts tend to prevent any meaningful online conversation which makes socializing less satisfying especially since you have to wait longer for people to reply unlike in real life. In real life, I force myself to talk less than the other person to not be annoying but online, I don't do that unless it's a live chat thing. It's also because I'm used to reddit, where people write even longer posts than this and it's normal there.


TL ; DR: I'm not a skinnycel or a framecel, I'm a mentalcel. But I have fixed the issues that prevented me from getting laid, I'm not insecure anymore and I can identify IOIs way more than before so I can seize the opportunities that come my way and create some instead of isolating myself. Your post represents what low self confidence can lead to.

 

[StrangerDanger]

.

''Ahh, Damien p-please not h-here. I have class in five minutes.'' Steven informed me, a moan traveling soon behind. I let my mouth abandon his erect nipple as I began sucking on his unmarked neck.

''So do I,'' I breathed out against his skin, placing a kiss to his soft spot right beneath his ear. He shuddered. I had him melting under me within seconds.

He's always like this when I start on him. I haven't even kissed him yet and he's already moaning my name.

''Damien, t-three minutes.'' He released from his lips despite his frequent panting for air. My laughter floated in the air, my lips moving from his neck.

It would be really cruel of me to leave him in his state of discomfort, seeing as though I am the one who put him there.

I thought about it for a minute, then shrugged.

His continuous countdown wasn't exactly a turn on.

I reached down, picking my shirt up from the floor, quickly pulling it over my head. ''Remember,'' I said, looking him deep in his caramel brown eyes, a smirk hanging at my lips. ''It was your call to finish yourself off.''

I slipped out of the janitors closet before he could object. As I'm swiftly making my way down the hall, I glance briefly at my wrist watch.

Haha, two minutes left Steven, I hope your hand works wonders.

Students start piling into the hall at the sound of the bell ranging. I continued making my way to my final class of the day, which by chance, just so happens to be his as well.

I took my usual seat in the back, watching as the rest of the students piled into the classroom. Inwardly, I laughed. There's no way he's going to make it, there is only a few minutes left 'till the tardy bell.

I smiled, seeing the Teacher walking in and calling the class to order. He started with the attendance.

I've never really understood why we did attendance at the end of the day. I mean c'mon, don't they think we've learned enough to be able to skip the last forty-five minutes of school?

God, the Board of Education is so stupid. I would definitely be as far away from this place as I could be if it wasn't for Steven.

I honestly never knew he was such a nerd until he made a rule that if I skipped school more than four times a week I wouldn't get any. Not that I get any anyway. But even thought I hated being here, I stopped skipping for him.

Deep down, I know he did that to help me, and in a way I am thankful to him. Before I only came to school on Tuesdays and Fridays.

Tuesdays are tolerable and Fridays are the most important day of the week. It's a test day, and the most exciting day of the week. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what goes down at this school.

The bell rang and in the same second a panting Steven came running into the classroom. His hand was clutching his stomach as he made an attempt to try and regain some air back into his lungs.

I laughed loudly, not caring if anyone started to stare.

He quickly shot me a glare from across the classroom. He turned to the teacher and gave him some bs excuse for being late. I doubt that he would have even got in trouble if he was a little late. He's like the Einstein of teachers pets.

Even knowing that, I also knew he'd be so pissed at me for almost making him late that that I wouldn't get any midnight action. Well there goes my late night blowie.

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I purposely avoided his gaze as he took his seat beside me. The teacher started going on about some project and I proceeded to put my textbook up like a fort so I'd have a shield as I got on my phone.

I really didn't feel like being bothered right now. I have practice after this and then I have to go home and help my brother with his homework.

I know, funny isn't it? Considering I hate all things school related it seems kind of hypocritical of me to make my brother do his homework. I haven't did any homework since sophomore year. The advantage of having an Asian as a bestfriend.

Anyway, after I help with his homework I have to drop him off by his bestfriends house. I never let him sleep at home when our parents are there.

For the most part they ignore us, and we used to hate that, but when things get bad...when they get really bad, we wished they would ignore us, forget our existence even.

I don't really have any place to go when this happens besides Steven's house, but I can't stay there for more than two days a week. His parents are fucking crazy.

It doesn't matter though because I'd rather be dealing with it than letting my little brother deal with it.

''This is worth fifty percent of you final grade Mr. Vitalé. I hope you're paying attention.'' Mr. Richards said, looking in my direction. I gave him a sarcastic smile, shooting him a thumbs up.

Creative writing isn't exactly my favorite. Anything school related is not to my liking really. And I still don't like how they call the class an elective when the person who has to sit through it for forty five minutes sure as hell didn't choose it.

Steven discretely slipped a folded piece of paper on my desk when the teacher wasn't looking. I smirked. Oh look, the golden child is trying to break few rules. Aye, maybe I'm finally rubbing off on him. I unfolded the paper and read his perfect hand writing.

~Now you're shy? Don't play daft with me Damien. Just tell me you're afraid of me giving you blue balls.~

I smiled at the paper. The nerve of this boy. I glanced over to him before scribbling down my response.

~Are you kidding me? I have a hand, Steven. The only time you scare me is when you start using your foreign ass scholar words. Like 'daft'. What the hell does that mean anyway?~

I slipped the piece of paper back to him, then focused my attention to the game of Angry birds on my phone. Hearing him laugh, I glanced in his direction to see him crumbling up the piece of paper.

When he smiles it shows off his dimples. He'll never admit to it though, since he wants to look mature at every moment, but it makes him look even younger than his actual age. It's really adorable. He's the most attractive person I've ever seen in my life.

''Boys,'' Mr. Richards voice caught our attention. Steven and I both looked up at him. ''Either you can read it out loud, or I can. But just so you know Damien,'' He locked eyes with me giving me a stern look. I smiled back innocently just to piss him off. ''After you pretend to read it, I will read it.''

I rolled my eyes.

Turning to Steven, I gave him a 'what the hell' look, but he was busy staring at the teacher with a pleading expression on his face.

How did we even get caught? We barely passed more than two notes.

Wait!

We only passed two notes. Does this man have eyes in the back of his head or something?

How the hell did he even see past my book fort? This is complete b.s.

''Any day now,'' Mr. Richards said, impatiently. Everyone’s attention was on us. The room suddenly felt like it was getting hotter. I took in a nervous breath.

Literally the first sentence on that paper gave away our secret. And there's no telling what Steven wrote on that paper before he crumbled it up. This is great, just fucking great!

I sighed, reaching my hand out towards Steven so that he could give me the paper. He handed it to me and the feeling of eyes watching me became even more evident.

I quickly shoved the balled up piece of paper in my mouth. When dreamed about deep throating so well that I'd have balls in my throat, this is not what I imagined.

I gaged at least three times trying to swallow it. The class watched in amusement and the teacher stared in dull annoyment. This is the fourth year Mr. Richards has had to deal with me, I'm pretty sure he's used to it by now.

Oh and Steven seemed to enjoy the show. He was laughing so hard his complexion had changed to fifty shades of pink.

''Steven, take your goat to the nurse. When you're done you can go down to the gym and explain and explain to your coaches why you both will be missing practice today because of the detention Damien just earned you.'' Mr. Richards spoke, immediately going back to his lesson after that.

I grabbed my things, shoving them into my backpack and exiting the classroom. A laughing Steven followed me out. I didn't find it funny at all. I felt like there was a ball stuck in my throat, and not the good kind. Plus, paper and ink taste really nasty together.

He was still laughing once we were further down the hall. I gritted my teeth, shoving him into a locker and continuing to walk.

Of course he caught up to me though, the boy is captain of the soccer team, he has legs.

''Shoving the defenseless Asian kid into the locker won't change the fact that you looked stupid.'' He told me, still laughing.

I stopped walking, turning to face him. I pinned him against the wall before he had a chance to react. Capturing his lips in mine, I stole what was left of his air. I should've suffocated the laughing bastard with my lips.

''I did it for you, you fucking idiot so please, stop telling me how stupid I looked, I know,'' I said once I had separated our lips, deciding to let him live. ''What the hell did you write on that paper after you crumbled it up?'' I asked him.

He pushed me back, getting off of the wall. I watched his cheeks flame up as he went into deep blush mode. I laughed, shaking my head.

''Wow,'' I said. ''That bad huh?'' I asked him seriously. He didn't answer me and we started walking again in silence. I wasn't even mad at him for almost getting us caught. It's both our fault. But we really have to be more careful, this town is like the headquarters for homophobia.

''Steven, what if Mr. Richards would have took the paper from you before he warned us?'' The question slipped free from my mind before I really thought about it.

I hate it when my thoughts escape my head. I'd rather just keep it to myself, it makes me feel like an idiot sometimes.

Steven glanced at me briefly.

''I guess--I mean I don't know. I know you would've had my back with it, but I don't really want to think about it, Damien.'' He whispered. I could hear the fear in his voice. ''But that's just bro-code right? We have each others back no matter what?'' He asked, offering his hand out to me.

I took his hand in mine, nodding in agreement.

Two jocks who are secretly gay together.

Two reputations and lives on the line if anyone ever finds out.

A millions things to worry about every minute we're in public together, trying our hardest to hide our feelings for each other.

''Yeah,'' I spoke with ease, ''Just bro-code.''

It's easier to lie when you're happy. With Steven, I'm happy.
*Steven's POV*

I'm infuriated with him. I know he knows that I am.
But of course I can't express that with him because he did just save both of our asses. Then again...he did just prevent me from going to soccer practice.
He's an asshole.

Although I can't help but smile at the thought that he's my asshole. That doesn't change the fact that I'm going to kick his ass for this.

I suddenly feel someone breathing down my neck, turning around to see Damien ogling me with curious hazy blue eyes. A scoff left my lips as I pinpointed the look in his eyes as lust.
When isn't he horny?

''What?'' I ask him, starting a slow walk in the direction of the detention he earned us. Of course he began to follow closely behind me. Extremely close.

''Nothing,'' He spoke, giving me my response, ''You just look sexy when you think.'' He whispers in my ear. I raise a brow at him, putting my hand over his face and pushing him away.
If he thinks we're about to be all buddy-buddy and discretely cozied up in detention he's dead wrong. I'm still pissed at him.
''You're not off the hook,'' I inform him. I hear a sigh leave his lips. I glance over my shoulder to see him shaking his head.
I don't care if he feels like I'm being inconsiderate right now. Soccer is important to me, and missing this practice means I can't play in the game tomorrow.
And it's not some big secret that if you miss a practice before an event you won't be allowed to participate. He knows this, he's on the football team. Then again missing practice doesn't affect his eligibility to perform at all since he's the quarterback.
Believe it or not, but I'm sure it's pretty damn believable, they allow him to play no matter what because they know they need him to win.
He can go to two practices a week if he wants and completely skip their weekend practices and you'll still see him in the game on Friday.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking bad about him. He's a really good football player, with or without the practice. It's so effortless for him. And I'm over here killing myself to be the best not only in the classroom but on the soccer field as well.
I mean, I barely even made it on the varsity soccer team because of my age, and now I have the honor of being the captain. Just so you know, I'm not really the stereotype Asian, if that wasn't already blatantly obvious, but I did skip a grade so that I could take more advanced classes.
But that didn't exactly help me in the sports area because a team full of seventeen and eighteen-year old's don't want a sixteen year old on the team, let alone as their team captain. So at least I know that they'll be more than happy to hear I'm out of the game tomorrow. They can thank Damien for that.

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Ugh, asshole.

''If you were gonna be such a bitch about it Steven, you shouldn't have passed the note in the first place. I'm not afraid to admit that I screwed up, okay? I know that. But use that brain of yours for a minute, because so did you.'' He says, taking faster strides to walk ahead of me.
I roll my eyes. If that was his attempt at making me feel bad it wouldn't work. I have a high wall of protection around my emotions Damien Vitalé, and you my asshole of a friend, will not penetrate that wall.
''And in case you're too stuck in your own head to realize it, everything I did in that classroom, I did for you.'' He says over his shoulder before entering Mr. Richards class. I sigh, shaking my head.
Well, there goes my fucking wall.
I guess now it is my turn to pull my head out of my ass and apologize to him. Something a lot worse could've happened besides me missing a single game. Something like Mr. Richards seeing what I wrote on that paper.
Just thinking about it is making me blush.
Even though apologizing isn't my favorite thing in the world to do I know I have to stop being a dick and be grateful for Damien because the only reason Mr. Richards didn't see that note is because of what he did.
Now he's mad at me.

Great, we're mad at each other now.
I just have yet to understand why we act like this. So caring towards each others emotions. We aren't in a relationship, we're not, but it certainly does feel that way when someone crosses a line or gets emotionally hurt. It pulls us deeper into whatever this thing is that we've been secretly building for a while now.
And speaking of emotions, I can feel my emotions for this asshole growing. When Damien and I are together, when we're intimate, I swear he's a completely different person.
He scares the hell out of me with how rough he can be whenever we decide to take it down that road. He doesn't hold back at all, biting, scratching, sucking, breaking the thin layer of my skin to leave his mark for weeks.
But when he's gentle...damn I hate the gentle Damien Vitalé at times and how he can keep me on edge for hours with no end to the way his lips would gently caress my heated skin.
And damn, I must admit that I love it.

I love everything about him when he's with me.
I enter the classroom, heading to the back to take a seat. I like the back of the classroom, besides being peaceful the view is always better from this angle.
I quickly spot Damien on the opposite side of the classroom, looking extremely committed to tapping furiously at the screen of his phone. Right beside him some hopeless girl, -I think her name is Kayla, I recognize her from Civics-, tries desperately to get his attention to no avail.
Even though she's really attractive and resembles the exact type of girl Damien would sleep around with before him and I started...started what we have going on, I'm not worried. I know he won't give her the time of day, and while deep down that made me extremely happy, it also made outsiders view him as a massive jerk.
Their logic is that since the most popular jock and fuckboy of the school went from screwing every girl that walks these halls to not screwing anyone of them at all, clearly he's become conceited beyond reprimand.

I mean I can think of more logical reasons he's a jerk but I'll just keep that to myself.
''Okay, take your seats.'' Mr. Richards speaks, leisurely entering the room. He takes a seat behind his desk, taking test papers out and beginning to grade them.
A quiet laugh escapes my lips. I already know I have an A on that.
''I want thirty minutes of absolute silence, oh and Mr. Vitalé,'' Mr. Richards says, looking up from his work to stare intently at Damien.
Damien looks up into Mr. Richards eyes with a knowing smirk. ''Please try your best not to consume anything else that might affect your health in any way. As much as I live for the thought of suspending you, I really hate paperwork.''
I suppressed the laughter that attempted to leap from my lips. Although that didn't stop me from grinning ear to ear.
Of course I don't actually think Damien is stupid. Whether he chooses to admit it or not, he's really good at school yet he purposely refuses to put forth effort. It's seriously not even that hard.
I have to bribe him with blowjobs just to make him show up on occasion.
To my surprise the time flew by. Mr. Richards released us from detention with ten minutes to spare. I leave the classroom heading in the direction of the locker room.
I might as well go beg the coach to let me play tomorrow since clearly I have nothing better to do than avoid my problems.

I know I have to apologize to Damien...and I will.
Just as soon as I can find a way to shove my pride somewhere where it wont get in the way for a couple of minutes. Until then, I'll just keep my distance from him. That shouldn't be too hard, it's not like we're attached at the hip or something.

I walk into the locker room, the smell of sweat and musk evading my nostrils. Unfortunately I'm used to that smell, so it doesn't bother me so much. I walk towards the back of the room where the coaches office is.
''Well Yeiun, it's nice to see your face around here. Although I am sure I should've seen you ten minutes before practice even started Mr. Varsity Team Captain.'' Coach says, not even giving me the chance to step into his office before those words leave his lips.

I sigh, walking over to his desk. Before I can reply, he speaks again, not even glancing up from the playbook in his hands.

''Look Yeiun,'' He puts the playbook down on his desk, looking me in the eyes, ''When I made the decision to make you captain of the varsity team it wasn't to set a new trend or to prove that the underclassmen athletes have the same skill levels as the upperclassmen athletes.
I put you in this position because you showed me that you had ambition, drive, passion, talent and commitment. I told you that it was going to be hard getting your teammates to look to you as a leader because of the age gap, and you told me you could handle it.
Now I've been seeing you trying with them, but missing the final practice before the first game of the season isn't how you earn their respect, or mines. Do you get where I'm coming from?''

''Yes, sir.''

''Good, good. Now as far as playing in tomorrow's games, you're in. Vitalé was in here a couple of minutes ago explaining to me how Mr. Richards gave you both a detention for something that he did. So you're off the hook this time, but don't let detention become a regular thing.
You're a good kid Yeiun, don't let stupid shit hold you back. I understand you're trying to fit in, but maybe Vitalé and his crowd of friends aren't the right people for you.
Think about it, and close my door on your way out.'' Coach says, picking the playbook back up.
I nod my head, leaving his office, shutting the door as I go.
I'm happy as hell that I didn't just get his playbook thrown at my head. I can't stress enough on how much it means to me to be the captain of the varsity soccer team.

This is really big for me, and for Damien to almost fuck that up with that stupid detention just pisses me off.
Then again the asshole did just save my ass.

''Fuck,'' I mumble, walking out of the school.
He just saved my ass for the second time today. First with the note and now with the game tomorrow.
Why would he do that?

I'm not being ungrateful, I can't thank him enough for what he's done but that still doesn't kill my curiosity on why he did it.
This, 'taking one for the team' attitude has never been apart of Damien's personality.
I didn't think he'd throw himself out on the line like that for me to play in the game. Football is important as hell to him and he really just risked not playing in the game tomorrow so that I would be able to play in mines.
And here I am, all day just being an oblivious jerk.
I hate myself, I've never felt more stupid than I feel right now. And that's saying a lot, considering I'm the smartest kid in this school.
Wow.

I might as well add egotistical to my list of flaws with a statement like that.
I figure Damien will need a ride home since I drove him to school today, but when I make it to the parking lot he's nowhere to be found.
I sigh, climbing into my car and starting it up.
I should've known he'd be so pissed at my ungrateful attitude that he'd push me away. I'm not mad, I know I deserve it.
I've been acting like a bitch to him all day when he's treated me like the complete opposite of that.
I didn't mean to, I'm just so fucking blinded by myself sometimes.

I pull out of the parking lot, driving in the direction of his house.

The sooner he realizes that I'm not that easy to get rid of, the quicker he'll understand how I'm starting to feel about him.
Although I'll never just come right out and tell him.
And we are what we are.

Friends...

Brothers...

And lovers.


*Damien's POV*

Caring about people and having feelings for them and shit, it's nothing but a bunch of bullshit I swear it. I mean look at this shit, I basically just sacrificed my life twice for this ungrateful kid and all that he can think about is himself.
So what do I get for doing what I did for him?
Nothing.
Just him being pissed at me because things didn't go his way. Not him being thankful that I saved both our asses. I don't even need him to say thank you but damn some simple gratitude would be nice.

Honestly, I don't even really care about the fact that he's mad.
Steven can be mad all he wants. What's really bothering me is the fact that he likes to assign blame but when something is actually his fault he can't accept that.
You know what?

Fuck him.
I feel this sprout of laughter take over me.
Fucking him is exactly what I won't be doing tonight, or any night to come for that matter.
In all seriousness, we've yet to go that far. And I would never push the subject of sex with him. I'm not a virgin so to speak because I've slept with plenty of girls, but I've never slept with a guy. And he knows that I want to have sex with him.
But on the other hand, he is a virgin and...I don't know. I guess I'm just so used to being with girls and sleeping with them whenever I pleased that I'm not used to not being able to sleep with the person that I want to, when I want to.
And I would never 'cheat' on Steven and go have sex with a female just because he won't sleep with me. But I'm not going to lie and act like he doesn't piss me off when he acts like he doesn't want to sleep with me at all.
I mean maybe it's not an act.
We've been fooling around with each other for a while now and I'll continue to wait as long as he needs me to until we can take that next step, but my feelings for him are starting to get kind of more than personal, and I don't think it's the same for him.

I don't know.
I don't know what's going on with him these days. Or with us. But to be honest I don't feel like wasting my time by wrecking my brain to try and figure it out.
I helped him today, not once but twice. Twice I saved his ass.

God only knows what my parents would do to me if they knew I was attracted to guys. I take enough shit and enough hits as it is on the football field, I don't need even more at home.
Steven's parents are an entirely different story though. They are all traditional and shit. Hell they'd probably disown him or something crazy like that if they ever find out what he's doing with his best friend in the closet. His parents creep me the fuck out.
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There's a knock on my room door.

''Come in,'' I yell. I see my little brother Cody running down the stairs. Yes, down the stairs.
I took the basement and converted it into my room. I know my house is basically like a mansion there's ten rooms in this house, but I like the basement. I get peace, privacy, and it's...secure.
''Did you finish your homework yet?'' I ask him when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. He walks over to me. I sit up on my bed and look at him.

''Almost—''

''Then we can almost talk, after you finish your homework.'' I tell him. I pick my cellphone up from beside me on my bed. Cody sighs, causing me to look back over at him. ''Do you need me to help you?'' I ask him.
He shakes his head.
I put my phone down.

''Come here,'' I say, gesturing for him to have a seat next to me. He sits beside me on my bed. His head is hung low, but I catch a glimpse of his expression and I can see that something is bothering them.
''What's up?'' I ask him. He shrugs. That's a tell sign that I'm going to have to ease this out of him.
Cody is very closed off when he wants to be for reasons that I completely understand. When you grow up in a household like this you learn to be invisible, quiet, and keep every thought that crosses your mind to yourself at all times.
''Cody you can tell me what's bothering you, I'm your brother you can always tell me anything.'' I assure him. He glances up at me with that worried look of his in his emerald eyes.
''I just—I just don't like leaving you alone in this house with them Damien. I know that it's best for me to sleep at Connors' house when he's back in town but I don't like leaving you here. It makes me feel bad.'' Cody admits, looking into my eyes.
I can see the puddles forming in his eyes and with a single blink the tears cascade down his face. I sigh, reaching over to wipe my brothers face, proceeding to pull him closer to me for a hug.
''Don't you ever feel bad for me, Cody. I'm going to be alright. Okay? Look at me,'' I release him from the hug, staring into his teary eyes as I muster up the most believable face I can possibly display. ''I'm going to be just fine. You don't have to worry about me. I'm your older brother, it's my job to worry about you not the other way around.'' I say, hopping to soothe him.
He nods his head at me.
''Okay, I guess I'll drop you off early and you can finish your homework at Connors house. Go pack a bag for the week.'' I tell him.
He gets up from my bed and leaves my room, going to get his things ready.
I sigh, laying back against my bed.
I'm not going to be just fine when our father gets back into town tonight. I mean unless you consider just fine a broken nose and a few bruised ribs.
I'm sure as soon as his plane lands he'll make his way to the bar that's nearest to the airport. Then he'll take a taxi to the house, come home and greet us and everything will be fine for a while as he goes upstairs to unpack his suitcase.
And then things won't be fine.
Then my mother becomes a punching bag that works to alleviate my fathers stress.
And me? What do I become?
I become the bandages that wrap around a beaten punching bag. Pushing her to the side and taking all the hits for her.
And when morning rolls around she powders on a new layer of makeup and they'll both pretend like nothing happened. She'll refuse to look me in my eyes because of the guilt she feels for letting her husband put his hands on me.
And my father? He'll make some joke about how football is really getting the better of me this year with all the new bruises I'm sporting lately.
Fucking in denial, abusive alcoholic.
And me? I'm just going to keep my mouth shut. Because I care about the people that I'm taking the hits to protect more than I care about myself.
I brush all of this from my mind, getting up from my bed. I grab my car keys from my dresser and make my way upstairs.
I walk down the hall over to the main stairwell in the house.
''Cody are you ready to go?'' I yell up the stairs. A minute later he comes running down the stairs, a backpack in one hand and a gym bag in the other.

''Let's go!'' He screams, running past me and for the front door. Okay so now I'm basically deaf.

I follow him outside, looking the front door behind me. He tosses his stuff into the backseat of the car, climbing into the passenger seat as I get into the drivers' seat.
I put my seatbelt on, waiting until he does the same before I start up the car and back out of the driveway.
I start heading in the direction of his best friend Connors house. It's nearly a thirty-minute drive and about fifteen minutes in my phone starts to ring.
''Answer it for me,'' I tell Cody. He gets my phone from my pocket, hitting the answer button and placing it to his ear.
He exchanges greetings with whoever's on the phone for a minute.

''Well we're in the car right now, he can't talk,'' Cody says. He looks at me. ''Steven wants to know if you can hangout at his house later.'' Cody informs me.
I shake my head.
''He doesn't want to hangout with you,'' Cody replies bluntly. I roll my eyes, coming to a halt at a red light and reaching over to take the phone from Cody's hands.
I put the phone to my ear.
''Steven I'm busy,'' I say simply before hanging the phone up and continuing to drive when the light changes colors.
''Liar,'' I hear Cody mumble in a sing-song voice.

''Am I not driving you somewhere?'' I ask him.
''Well you won't be in about ten minutes.'' He responds.
''Mhmm,'' I reply dryly.
We reach Connors house within the next ten minutes. Cody grabs his stuff from the backseat before hopping out of the car.
''Hey!'' I scream out of the window, honking the horn. ''I love you, I'll see you soon.''

''I love you too,'' He yells back, making his way up to Connors front door.
I drive away, going back to my house. The next thirty minutes are filled with the radio quietly spurting out a song now and again.
I pull up in my driveway, turning my car off and getting out. I make it to my front door, only to glance around and see Steven's car parked on the curb. I sigh, unlocking my front door and walking into my house.
I make my way down to my bedroom, not surprised in the slightest to see Steven in my room, digging through my dresser.

''What are you doing?'' I ask him, walking over to my dresser.
''Packing you some clothes obviously. Where do you think you're sleeping tonight? Here?'' He asks me sarcastically.
I walk over to him, putting all the clothes that he had taken out of my dresser back in it. ''I locked my front door when I left. You broke into my house and,'' I close my drawer, '' You're invading my privacy.''

He turns to look at me, his arms folded across his chest.
''Look I fucked up, okay?'' He offers. I just stand there. I'm not about to make this so easy for him. He fucks up all the time the only difference to this time is for some reason it hurt more.
It hurt a hell of a lot more.
He looks me in my eyes. I stare back into his deep brown eyes.
''You know what I'm trying to say,'' He attempts again. I shake my head, walking over to my bed and taking a seat.
Steven resumes taking my clothes from my dresser and tossing them into his athletics bag.

''Whenever you're finished packing my clothes for no reason at all, you should leave before my Dad gets here.'' I tell him.
Steven tosses the bag on the floor, turning around and walking towards me.
''Look I don't care how much of an asshole you're being to me right now, it's not changing the fact that you're sleeping at my fucking house tonight.'' He shouts at me.
''What about your annoying, overbearing helicopter parents?'' I ask him idly. He shrugs his shoulders.
''I'll sneak you in,'' He concludes.
''Steven unless you plan on sneaking me in for the entire week, don't waste your time. It doesn't matter if I dodge a beating tonight, because I know that it'll be coming my way regardless.'' I tell him seriously.
Yes, I would love to spend the night with Steven and not in my fucking house with my father, but it won't change the whole situation in its entirety. I'd rather just deal with it instead of playing a game of dodgeball.
Steven looks to the ground. I hear him intake a deep breath of air before he exhales it. ''I'm sorry,'' He apologizes, still not looking up at me. ''I'm an idiot sometimes Damien, but I do care. And I'm not letting you sleep here.''

He looks into my eyes again finally.
''Forgive me?'' He asks.
I stand up, grabbing Steven and pulling him closer. I let my hand gently stroke his cheek before leaning in and kissing his lips. I set him free from the kiss, looking at his face to see tears falling from his eyes.
I smile, wiping the tears away. ''That was me accepting your apology idiot, why are you crying?'' I taunt him.
He shakes his head. His arms come up to wrap around my neck. I feel more tears hitting my skin.
''Steven...'' I say quietly. I wrap my arms around him, hugging him back. ''Tell me what's wrong,'' I beg him.
I feel him shaking his head against my neck.

''Just hold me—hold me close please,'' He hiccups out through tears.
I guide us down to the bed. I lay on my back so that Steven can rest his head on my chest.
Getting things out of Steven isn't as easy as getting things out of Cody. With Steven I had to wait until he was ready to tell me. If I pry we'll just end up fighting about it and that won't get us anywhere.
So for now I guess I'll just be left worrying until he decides that he's ready to tell me.
I can't stop hearing his voice in my head when he told me that he cares about me.
There are different meanings for the word care. I don't know what he means.

What I do know is that I care.
I want to do more than just hold him close. That's the type of care I'm feeling. I want to keep him, take him, have him.

Honestly, at this point I feel like I can actually handle and get happiness out of putting up with his shit for the rest of my life.

I want him to be mines. But sadly, wanting isn't enough.
*STEVEN P.O.V.*

Almost...almost..almost...
''Dammit Carter!'' I yelled as I threw the game controller to the floor. He erupted in laughter. Same as Jackson and Damien.

''You lost prep boy, don't take it out on my game controller.'' Jackson said. I sighed shaking my head. I did'nt lose, Carter cheated.
''Whatever, I'm going to get something to drink.'' I said getting up and tossing Jackson the controller. Let's see how much fun he has losing to the cheating Carter. I walked out of the main room and into the kitchen. I would much rather be relaxing at Damiens house, cuddled up with him as we watched Netflix all day, but no we just had to hangout with Jackson and Carter today.

I was'nt complaining because I did'nt like them. They were my friends just as much as they were Damiens, but I'd just rather be anywhere but here. Well that's a lie, because honestly I'd rather be anywhere but at my house.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Damien looking at me with the same worried expression he's had since last night.
''I'm fine.'' I repeated to him for the fifth time today. It may have been a lie but he couldn't help me with what I was going through. My family was my problem, and if I told him what was going on then he'd feel bad, and I did'nt want that.

''Don't lie to me Steven, I know you.'' Damien said. His hand left my shoulder and moved to my waist as he pulled me in close to him for a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging more tightly to him than I wanted to be. I fought back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. I have to hold it in, it'll all blow over quickly, I know it will.
The tears won the battle, and soon they were staining my face. I held my sobs in as they ran relentlessly down my face.

''Aye Damien get in here! It's your turn to get your ass kicked!'' Carter yelled from the main room. I heard Damien sigh before he moved his hands from my waist, and with me refusing to let him go, he had to basically pry my arms from around his neck.
He took a step back, looking at me. His expression still never changed, only now he looked as worried as ever. I should'nt have just broke down, I probably ruined his entire day, because I know now he'll suggest that we go home. And even though I'll assure him that he can stay and hang with our friends he'll refuse easily. It's such a played out routine.

He lifted his hand to my face, wiping the fallen tears away. I sighed and turned my head away from him. I was never this bad at keeping my emotions in check. I turned my head back to face him, and was caught in a kiss. I went to put my hands on his cheeks but his hands caught mine, entwining our fingers and squeezing tightly.

He pulled away and I was'nt ready to set him free just yet, but I knew that it was beyond dangerous for him to have even hugged me in the first place. He released my hands and rested his forehead against mine.

''Your public face is horrible.'' He whispered out to me laughing quietly. He was referring to the way we had to act with each other when we were'nt alone or in private. I smiled pulling back from him and looking into his light blue eyes.

''Stay'' I suggested. ''I'll only be moping in my own problems all day, and besides you really wanted to hang with them.'' He shook his head smiling back at me.

''We both know how this argument is going to end, so should we skip the meaningless conversation? Because either way I'm coming, and dude I'm your ride idiot, I'm leaving either way.'' He said, shaking his head like he was surprised at my sudden lack of common sense. Actually I was a bit shocked at that as well.

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Gale was stumbling down the halls the first day of his Junior year in a new school when he bumped into a boy named Ivan. Gale stumbled feeling quite embarrassed and look...
We said bye to Jackson and Carter, then climbed into Damiens car and made our way over to his house. The ride was silent, but I guess he did'nt yet notice that I had in fact noticed him stealing glances at me every three minutes. Jocks, there so creepy I swear.
''Stop it.'' I murmured, feeling a blush sneak its way onto my cheek after he just looked at me and smiled.
''I can't help it.'' He admitted, stopping at a red light. ''You have that look on your face again, the one where I can tell your over thinking something, and you look so damn sexy.'' He stated smiling at me.
I knew my face was probably bright red right now. I hated it when he said things like that, it made me blush repeatedly. ''Give me a kiss.'' He said. I laughed, shaking my head no. ''Please babe.'' He said fluttering his eyes and poking out his bottom lip.
I just stared at him frozen. Did he just call me babe? Oh god no. What was happening, I did'nt need this not now at least. He caught on to his mistake as well, I'm hoping it was a mistake, he turned his gaze from me looking down at his hand that rested on his lap.
''Um. Green light.'' I choked out quietly in the awkward silence. He continued to drive and when we pulled into his parking lot neither of us bothered to get out of the car. I was'nt going to move until he moved.
''I did'nt mean anything by it. It just sort of slipped out.'' He said turning to look at me. I wish this was'nt on my mind right now. I was'nt mad that he had called me babe, but I could'nt be happy about it either even though I honestly wanted to be. I knew I had to tell him why I was upset sooner or later. I mean he would start to come to a conclusion when I begin to repeatedly crash at his house for the rest of my life.
I couldn't go home. Not after what happened.
''Look we don't have to talk about this. It was just a slip up and-'' I unbuckled my seat belt and basically threw myself into his lap, as I captured his lips with mine. He did'nt get a chance to ask me for entrance before my tongue had already invaded his mouth taking control. His hands were at my back and they trailed down to roughly grope my butt. I let a groan escape from between our lips as I ran my fingers through his hair.
I captured his bottom lip in between my teeth. Pulling playfully before letting go and resting my head on his forehead. I leaned down to gently kiss his lips again before pulling back and smiling.
''Call me what ever you want.'' I whispered to him.
*******
*******
*******
''Give me the remote Damien.'' I said angrily as he held it above his head, out of my reach smiling. He thought this was a joke, well I did'nt! God he knows just how to ruin a perfect moment. Not even five minutes ago we were laying peacefully on his bed kissing each others faces off while The Walking Dead played loudly in the background.
''No, no way. Not until you tell me.'' He said in a serious tone. I sighed moving over to his bed where I layed down and basically tried to smother myself with a pillow. I did'nt get that far before then pillow was pulled from my face and a pair of soft lips slammed into mine.
''Now tell me.'' Damien said, pulling back from the unexpected kiss. I sighed again and turned on my side facing away from him. I did'nt want to tell him even though I had too. He should'nt have to worry. If he knew, I know he was going to through his own neck out on the line for me. And that's exactly what I did'nt want.
I felt him wrap his arm around my waist pulling me back and into his warm chest. He rested his head on the side of my neck, and I held onto the hand that he had wrapped around me. He was spooning me, I never in my life thought that I'd be the little spoon. I did'nt feel like complaining, I knew he was only trying to make me feel better, and it was working.
His embrace had me feeling so safe. ''It's about your parents, is'nt it?'' He asked, I felt his warm breath hit my neck. I mentally sighed. I was about to tell him everything, it would'nt help to lie to him any longer. He'd guess it sooner or later.
''My Mom walked into my room when I had just taken a shower, so all I had was a towel wrapped around my waist. She saw the hickeys on my chest and shoulder, then rushed over to me like I was dying or something. Of course I got in trouble for them, but we still had to discuss it with my Dad. She picked diner later that day to bring it up, and my Dad was furious with me, you know how religiously strict my parents are. But what made it worse was that my sister had to choose that moment of all times to make a stupid joke about me being gay.'' I said to him, forcing my self to restrain the tears. I guess he could sense I was on the verge of crying because he tightened his hold around me and placed a gentle kiss on my neck.
''Everyone at the table thought it was funny except me because I was the only one not laughing. When they finished I replied to her with a simple 'Yeah, and?' I swear it looked like they were different people the way the were staring incredulously at me. Then my Dad broke the silence by asking me if I was homosexual. I could'nt answer him, but I'm pretty sure the way I stormed out of the house after that gave them all the answer that they feared most.'' By the time I had got all that out my eyes had watered and spilled over.
''Shh it's okay. We can fix this if you want we can make it all go away.'' He said turning me in his arms so that I was facing him. He had me beneath him as he climbed on top me letting his weight rest on me. He kissed my lips lightly and I let my hand gently caress his cheek. ''Or we can accept it. I like you Steven, much more than an experiment or a free hookup every other day.'' He said separating our lips.
''I don't want to have to play public face anymore, and I don't want you to have to suffer through this alone. You should've told me sooner that, that's what made you so upset. I'm going to come out to my parents, this is all my fault anyway. I kissed you first that night.'' He said looking guilty and ashamed.
I pulled him closer to me pecking his lips gently, before pulling back. ''No Damien-''
''You can't change my mind. I'm doing it...for you.'' He said cutting me off and placing a kiss to my cheek before we got back into our previous positions. What had I done? I'm fine with my life being over, but now he was just going to give his up for me.
All for me.*
DAMIEN'S P.O.V.*

''Just one more please.'' I asked childishly. Steven grinned at me and crawled back atop me, forcing me to lay down on my bed as he straddled me.

''Did you do your homework?'' He asked leaning in close to me. I shook my head at him as I stuck my tongue out and he caught it between his teeth. A quiet groan left my lips as I stared up at him in shock. I never knew he had a kinky side, that just makes him so much more sexier.
He closed the distance between us bringing my tongue into his mouth and sucking roughly on it. I ran my hand through his raven black hair, as my other trailed down his back to grope his butt lightly. He moaned releasing my tongue from his mouth, and sitting up on me.

I laughed and shook my head. ''Well damn, I wonder what else that mouth of yours can do.'' I purred seductively. He laughed getting off of me. He reached his hand out to me and I took it getting to my feet.
I found my self being wrapped into his embrace as his arms found there way around my neck, pulling me into an air restricting hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I knew why he was clinging to me so tightly, and I refuse to change my decision.
''Please.'' He whispered into the crook of my neck. ''Don't do it, we can pretend this never happened. We can go back to getting wasted and screwing girls on the weekend. I'll never talk to you again if that's what it'll take for us to go back to normal.'' He stopped for a second and I could hear him began to sob as his warm tears hit my shoulder. I was suppose to be the one crying, not him.

''It hurts Damien. I love you, and it hurts, because they say I shouldn't. I won't believe them. Please, just tell me you don't feel the same, tell me your feelings aren't as strong.'' He begged me. But I wouldn't, I refused to lie to him, even though I knew I probably should.
This feeling of shame and vulnerability was so new to him, he lived off of stability, and it was hard for him to break away from it since he'd grown up around it. He said he loved me. Steven loved me. And if this didn't go well his love was the only love I'd ever need.
''C'mon.'' I said breaking our hug and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before walking over to my closet and grabbing my duffel bag off my dresser. I threw random clothes in before zipping it up and throwing it over my shoulder. He looked confused as I took his hand and led him out of my room. When we got into the dining room where my parents were idlely chatting while drowning themselves in their work, I let out a sigh. It would really snow in hell if they ever looked up from their laptops long enough to see if I was even alive.
I felt him trying to pull his hand from my grip, but I held on tighter. I could do this, but I needed him. He was the only thing that gave me the strength to do this.
''Mom, Dad.'' I said casually, trying to get there attention, if only just for a second. They weren't paying me any mind though. ''Excuse me!'' I basically yelled. They both glanced my way before quickly going back to their work, but my Dad did a double take as he looked at me again and his eyes zeroed in on me and Stevens clasped hands. The look that covered his face, had cold bitter chills going down my spine, I knew Steven felt it too as he tried yet again to pull away from me but I wouldn't let him.

''Damien Kristopher Vitale.'' My father spoke sternly, his cold gaze shifting to look me in my eyes. Oh god, you know your dead when your parents use your full name. I broke his gaze for a second as I glanced over at my Mother. She had stopped what she was doing as well and was staring at me with careful eyes. She had a stoic expression on her face, but I was praying that whatever she was thinking wasn't as harsh as whatever my Dad was thinking.

''Dad.'' I said turning so I had both my parents in my sight. ''Mom, I'm in love-''

''Choose your next words carefully son. I advise you to choose them very very carefully.'' He seethed at me. His jaw was clenched. If his balled fist didn't give away the fact that he was beyond pissed, the threatening tone in his voice sure did. I didn't think the situation would go grim so quickly.
I gripped on tighter to Stevens hand. I needed him more than I needed air at this moment. ''I'm gay.'' I said with a low voice, in fear of it cracking. My eyes were averted to looking at my shoes. I was scared to look up. Scared to face that look of disappointment that I knew would be on their faces. I wasn't what they wanted, and now they knew that.
' 'Get out.'' My fathers voice was much more calm than I expected it to be. I looked up to see him holding on so tightly to his phone to where I'm sure it was about to shatter into his hands. My Mom stared at him in a daze of surprise and anger.

''Jared-''

''No, Beth.'' He said slamming his hand on the table, causing all three of us to jump. ''Get out before I do something that I'm going to be arrested for.'' He said, his hatred filled eyes scorching into me.
I stood there, to in shock to move. I expected this, I did which is why I had already packed me some clothes. But for him to threaten me... my own father.
No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't happening. ''Mom?'' I asked feeling myself on the brink of tears. She was already crying. Her lightly tanned skinned now a shade of deep pink as tears streamed down her cheek. Her long brown hair flowing past her shoulders as she ran a shaky hand through it.
''Sweetie.'' She said getting up, almost making her way over to me but my Dad beat her to it. He pushed her to the side. I'm sure he didn't mean to but he practically threw her small frame into the wall. A high pitched scream escaped her lips as her head hit the wall and she fell limp to the floor. The look of horror on my face, barely showed how I truly felt.
My Dad grabbed a handful of my shirt, pulling me off my feet, and pinning me against the main room wall. Stevens hand left mine as he backed away with a petrified look on his face. I wanted to try to get out of my fathers grip but I was only thinking of my mom. I knew she wasn't dead, the blow to her head was only hard enough to make her go unconscious but the fact that he did that. The fact that he's doing this.
I turned my attention back to my dad as I saw his fist raising in the air from the corner of my eye. I turned my head just in time to catch the blow that hit my jaw and had me spitting blood. My entire face felt numb. I coughed, choking on the blood that was caught in my throat.
I felt his hand leave my shirt and I fell to knees clutching my stomach as I stared up at my Dad. I didn't need a mirror to show my expression. I'm sure how I felt was very evident on my face. I saw the sudden change in his eyes, as they went from anger and hate to regret and shock. He stared at me and back to his hand that was stained with my blood.

''Get out.'' He breath in a lifeless tone, after a moment of silence. ''Just-Just leave. Now!'' He yelled moving over to my Mother, and pushing Steven away from her. I could see she was slowly regaining consciousness. I was still in shock, but gladly Steven was beside me in less than a second, pulling me to my feet and rushing us both out the door.
My head was spinning, and it wasn't just from the collision of his fist to my face. No, I was confused, heartbroken, torn, and horrifically astonished. That wasn't the Father I grew up with, that was not the man that I looked up to. He was no longer my Father. And I couldn't help but blame myself.*
Steven P.O.V*

I feel like I deserve to die, like I deserve to be disowned by my family and never loved again. It was my fault. I did this. I'm the reason for it happening.

I didn't know what to say. He sat next to me in my car, as I drove us to the furthest hotel from our town. All I knew is that we had to get away. I was useless. Completely useless as his Dad abused him.

I sighed shaking my head. It was all my fault.

"I'm fine." He said quietly to me, reaching over and taking my free hand in his. He squeezed my hand tightly in reassurance but I didn't squeeze back. He'd been saying that this whole time and I know when he's lying to me. I hate it when he lies to me.

"I'm not." I admitted. My voice was barely above a whisper, but I knew he heard me. I pulled into the lot of the hotel. Taking the keys out the car I closed my eyes and took a breath, hoping to get a grasp on myself. On my stability.

Before I could open my eyes again a pair of soft lips met mine, kissing me sweetly. I brought my hand up to caress his cheek but quickly recoiled my hand and my lips as a hiss of pain left his lips.

"I-I'm sorry." I said watching him carefully as he brought his own hand up to run over his bruised face. He sighed shaking his head at me.

"Its okay, its nothing. It'll be gone by the weeks end." He assured me, leaning over to peck my lips lightly again before climbing out the car. I followed his lead. We went to the main building and booked a room for a few nights.

"I'm sorry." I said again when we were inside our hotel room. He was leaning against the headboard of the bed with an ice bag pressed to his cheek. I was sprawled out across the foot of the bed, as we just stared at each other.

He moved, placing the ice bag on the bedside table, before coming to hover over me. His hands were beside my head, holding himself off me as he studied my features carefully.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Steven. I did what I should've done a long time ago. And for the first time in a long time, they actually gave me more than five seconds of their time." He joked, laughing lightly.

I frowned at him, holding myself up on my elbows and forcing him to lean up a little. "That's not funny, Damien. None of this is. I'm sorry. My life was bad enough and now because of me yours is fucked up too!" I said. He pushed me back on the bed firmly. His own features becoming angry.

''No, it isn't! And never say that again,'' He let his hand gently caress my cheek. ''Steven as long as you're here with me, as long as we mean something to each other, my life isn't fucked up and it never will be.'' He leaned down and embraced me in the most passionate kiss we've ever shared.
His lips moved slowly over mine. I felt his hand snake its way under my shirt and glide over my abs. I shuddered at the sparks it emitted to me.

I hated the fact that I forgot his back was sore. He winced as I griped the side of his shoulder, pulling him closer to me. When he started to grind on me is about the moment that I think I lost a bit of my control.
The breathless pants slipped free from my lips as I arched my back, trying to get much more contact than he was giving me.

His lips left mine and started on my neck, slow tender kisses. Every where his lips touched left my skin tingling. He pulled back, causing me to open my shut eyes and look into his bright blue ones.

''I love you.'' He said, staring at me with a look that all but screamed I was the most important thing in the world to him. I felt the tears pooling in my eyes but I couldn't push them back.

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''I love you too.'' I said feeling the water run from my eyes. He kissed my tears away, sitting up and pulling me into his lap. I moved forward and kissed him sweetly on the lips. ''Can we?'' I asked when I pulled back from the kiss.

I didn't elaborate on my question but I didn't have to because I knew that he knew what I meant. I knew that he knew what I wanted. He looked so hesitant as he stared into my eyes.

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but I cut him off before he could. ''Please don't ask if I'm sure, Damien. I love you, that's all I want you to think about,'' I said wrapping my arms around his neck and laying my head on his shoulder. ''We love each other.'' I whispered to him. ''So make love to me.''

I felt his arms tighten around me. He laid me back on the bed crawling on top of me and looking into my eyes. ''Slow?" He asked cautiously. I laughed actually enjoying his momentary uncertainty. Never once in our time together like this has he offered to go slow. But I guess that was a good thing, I knew that was a good thing.

''Slow.'' I agreed as he leaned up to pull his shirt off. I admired his built muscular body. He caught my eye as I was practically drooling over him.

''Stare all you want,'' He said lifting my shirt up and over my head. ''What's mine is yours, and what's yours,'' My breath was caught in my throat and a strangled groan left my lips as he cupped me roughly in his hand. ''Is mine.'' He breathed into my ear letting his tongue trace the shell. I shuddered under his touch.

''Damien.'' I whined out as his grip got tighter. Of course it wouldn't be normal with out some teasing. But with the way he was making me feel, I don't think I can handle any teasing.

I felt my nipple being enveloped in the warmth of his mouth and I let my hands rake through his brown hair. Oh god. I ended up pulling his hair as his teeth tugged at my nipple.

I sat up slightly causing him to lean back, giving me the chance to basically jump him as he fell back on the bed and I landed on top of him. ''I love it when you get rough.'' He said smirking at me.

''I hate it when you tease me.'' I scolded him. He simply smiled at me as I undid his pants button. I slid them off and started to hook my thumbs in the waist band of his briefs but his hand caught mines.

I let my hands slowly feel down the frame of his body. The feel of his smooth warm skin beneath my fingertips had my mouth watering. I looked up to see him biting his lips. I was tempted to lean down and take his soft pink lip into my mouth.

''Let me.'' I whispered to him as I started to pull his briefs down. Before he could stop me I leaned down and licked the tip of his member, causing a hiss like groan to leave his lips.

I started to suck on the underside, feeling his fingers entwine in my hair once I licked from top to base. I looked up to see his beautiful blue eyes watching me intently as his teeth marked into his lip harshly. It was nice to know I was finally the one making him lose his cool.

I took one last lust filled look at him before enveloping him in my mouth completely. The sexy groan that left his lips had my pants becoming even more uncomfortable.

I had him on edge for the longest before I removed my mouthed completely denying him release. I leaned up and kiss him. His hand traveled down my back, groping me roughly. ''You're amazing.'' He whispered pecking my lips again. I laughed.

''With sexy breathless compliments like that, I should suck you off all the time.'' I mused. I saw his eyes glint at the thought which caused me to laugh more. He climbed atop me, reaching between me to undo my pants. I helped, slipping my briefs and pants off together as we stared into each others eyes.

''I meant it.'' He said, taking my leg and placing it to his shoulder. I felt my breathing hitch. He noticed and gave me a small smile as he entwined our fingers. ''I love you.'' I'll never get tired of hearing him tell me that. I heard a cap pop. I swear I glared at him for just a mere second and he started laughing. He knew why.

''You were just hoping you were gonna get laid, weren't you?'' I said mocking him as I smiled. I gasped as I felt the coldness at my entrance. He leaned down and let his lips hover over mine.

''Maybe.'' He whispered before kissing me. His tongue glided into my mouth moving together with mine. I felt his free hand start to slowly rub my leg that rested on his shoulder.

He made me feel sparks with just his touch. I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment between him kissing me breathless with his intoxicating lips, and his hand on my leg rubbing gently, making me harder than I already am, but the most unpleasant pain spread through me.

I gripped his hand tightly as I squeezed my eyes shut repelling the tears. This hurts like hell. He made a sound like a groan and a hiss at the same time as I moved slightly trying to find some comfort.

He didn't rush me as I took my time getting used to it. After a while the pain wasn't as bad. I opened my eyes to be greeted by sparkling blue ones. ''Okay?" He asked in a husky voice.

''Okay.'' I answered, tilting my head up. He kissed my lips. When he started to move the pain I felt before was becoming practically nonexistent. This felt incredible; he felt incredible inside me.

I adored the way I got to see his muscle flex and grow taut in his shoulders every time he would pick up speed. I loved the way he would moan out my name like it was his favorite word in the world when he came; every time he came.

It seemed as though every time I clawed at his back or tugged roughly on his hair when I felt near climax he would go faster, harder even. Just that thought made me mentally smile. Of course he likes it rough.

He decorated me beautifully. Kissing, biting and sucking at my porcelain skin. I attributed my own share of marks as he went slower, deeper. His hand started to stroke me and I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him closer to me. It felt so astonishing I sunk my teeth into his shoulder to keep from screaming out in pleasure.

''You mean everything to me.'' He mumbled panting when we were finally spent. I rolled over staring into his alluring eyes, he wrapped his arm around my waist pulling me into his embrace.

''How much is everything?'' I asked after a while, I was gently running my hand over his cheek, being sure not to hurt him. He smiled at me, grabbing my hand from him face and placing it on his chest.

''Everything is all.'' He answered bringing my hand up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss. I could practically feel the blush take over my face. I tried to turn away, but he captured my lips first. ''Everything.'' He told me again before kissing me deeply.
*Damien P.O.V.*

I watched him while he slept.

To say he is beautiful wouldn't due him justice. He is lovely, stunning, gorgeous, charming, he is everything to me. I loved the way he fit perfectly in my arms; the way this all just felt so perfect.

I hated myself for what I had to do.

But knowing that I was doing it for him, so that he could survive, made me feel not so much like crap.

He's going to hate me too.

I wouldn't blame him if he did. I'd still love him. I'll always love him. But I wouldn't be able to deal with him growing to resent me. I couldn't take it. Even when doing the most selfless thing of my life, why did I still feel selfish?

Maybe because I knew it was wrong. Maybe because it was going to tear him into a million pieces and me the same. Maybe because I was ripping us from each others arms in such a cruel manner that I should be deemed a criminal.

Or maybe it was because I love him more than my own life.

I leaned down and kissed his lips lightly, making sure not to wake him. I laid the letter down on the bed. It took all the will I had to walk out of that hotel room. Every step felt like the world was shaking. I told myself not to look back once I reached the room door. But I couldn't resist.

Seeing him lay so peacefully, and knowing it would be the last time I laid eyes on him had my heart crumbling. I ran from the room, shutting the door lightly. I wasn't even two minutes from the hotel before the pain took over. I drowned myself in tears as I slumped against a tree.

''It's okay, it's-it's fine as long as it's for him. This is all for him. I love him. God, I love him.'' I whispered to myself trying to calm down.

I love him.

~

Dear Steven,

I wasn't drunk when I kissed you that night, I was barely even buzzed. I wanted to.

Steven I wanted to kiss you that night. I've wanted to kiss you ever since the first week we met. I'm sorry for lying about that.

I'm sorry for a lot of things.

The Bro-Code;

#: Never get caught.

#: Learn your lies.

#: What happens in the closet stays in the closet.

#: Never break the Bro-Code.

We failed number one. I don't regret it. Everything that has brought us closer together, I'll never regret any of it.

I'm pretty sure we fucked up number two on many occasions. But we fucked up together.

I ruined number three for us. I'm not proud of how everything played out when I told my parents. I just want you to know and understand that none of it is your fault.

Right now I'm breaking number four.

So right now I'm saying fuck the Bro-Code. It was never about the Bro-Code it's about us and I love you.

I can't apologize enough for what I've done to you, because I know my words mean nothing. They can't ever justify my actions enough for you to forgive me and I know that.

I'm sure right now your upset and your probably cursing me out in every language you know but I won't apologize for what I'm doing right now.

Yes, I'm deeply sorry for causing you the pain that's going to follow, but no Steven, I'm not sorry for leaving, because I'm doing it for reasons I can't bring myself to explain. But most importantly you should know I'm doing it for you.

I love you more than I love myself. You didn't fuck my life up Steven you made it worth living, but I can't go back home. My parents will never accept me and I know that.

But you have a chance.

And it would be so cruel of me to take that away from you. Your parents will forgive you, Steven. I know they will. They love you. I want you to tell them what they want to hear. Even if it means bashing me, I don't care. I want what's best for you.

Steven...Steven I'm not best for you. You're so perfect and I'm not worth your future. And I want you to have that future.

I love you so much baby. I must have written that a million times already but I don't care, it's true. I'll always love you, that's why I have to do this, please never forget that.

Please never forget our love.

 

[Deleted member 13591]

View attachment 1183932
''Ahh, Damien p-please not h-here. I have class in five minutes.'' Steven informed me, a moan traveling soon behind. I let my mouth abandon his erect nipple as I began sucking on his unmarked neck.

''So do I,'' I breathed out against his skin, placing a kiss to his soft spot right beneath his ear. He shuddered. I had him melting under me within seconds.

He's always like this when I start on him. I haven't even kissed him yet and he's already moaning my name.

''Damien, t-three minutes.'' He released from his lips despite his frequent panting for air. My laughter floated in the air, my lips moving from his neck.

It would be really cruel of me to leave him in his state of discomfort, seeing as though I am the one who put him there.

I thought about it for a minute, then shrugged.

His continuous countdown wasn't exactly a turn on.

I reached down, picking my shirt up from the floor, quickly pulling it over my head. ''Remember,'' I said, looking him deep in his caramel brown eyes, a smirk hanging at my lips. ''It was your call to finish yourself off.''

I slipped out of the janitors closet before he could object. As I'm swiftly making my way down the hall, I glance briefly at my wrist watch.

Haha, two minutes left Steven, I hope your hand works wonders.

Students start piling into the hall at the sound of the bell ranging. I continued making my way to my final class of the day, which by chance, just so happens to be his as well.

I took my usual seat in the back, watching as the rest of the students piled into the classroom. Inwardly, I laughed. There's no way he's going to make it, there is only a few minutes left 'till the tardy bell.

I smiled, seeing the Teacher walking in and calling the class to order. He started with the attendance.

I've never really understood why we did attendance at the end of the day. I mean c'mon, don't they think we've learned enough to be able to skip the last forty-five minutes of school?

God, the Board of Education is so stupid. I would definitely be as far away from this place as I could be if it wasn't for Steven.

I honestly never knew he was such a nerd until he made a rule that if I skipped school more than four times a week I wouldn't get any. Not that I get any anyway. But even thought I hated being here, I stopped skipping for him.

Deep down, I know he did that to help me, and in a way I am thankful to him. Before I only came to school on Tuesdays and Fridays.

Tuesdays are tolerable and Fridays are the most important day of the week. It's a test day, and the most exciting day of the week. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what goes down at this school.

The bell rang and in the same second a panting Steven came running into the classroom. His hand was clutching his stomach as he made an attempt to try and regain some air back into his lungs.

I laughed loudly, not caring if anyone started to stare.

He quickly shot me a glare from across the classroom. He turned to the teacher and gave him some bs excuse for being late. I doubt that he would have even got in trouble if he was a little late. He's like the Einstein of teachers pets.

Even knowing that, I also knew he'd be so pissed at me for almost making him late that that I wouldn't get any midnight action. Well there goes my late night blowie.

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I purposely avoided his gaze as he took his seat beside me. The teacher started going on about some project and I proceeded to put my textbook up like a fort so I'd have a shield as I got on my phone.

I really didn't feel like being bothered right now. I have practice after this and then I have to go home and help my brother with his homework.

I know, funny isn't it? Considering I hate all things school related it seems kind of hypocritical of me to make my brother do his homework. I haven't did any homework since sophomore year. The advantage of having an Asian as a bestfriend.

Anyway, after I help with his homework I have to drop him off by his bestfriends house. I never let him sleep at home when our parents are there.

For the most part they ignore us, and we used to hate that, but when things get bad...when they get really bad, we wished they would ignore us, forget our existence even.

I don't really have any place to go when this happens besides Steven's house, but I can't stay there for more than two days a week. His parents are fucking crazy.

It doesn't matter though because I'd rather be dealing with it than letting my little brother deal with it.

''This is worth fifty percent of you final grade Mr. Vitalé. I hope you're paying attention.'' Mr. Richards said, looking in my direction. I gave him a sarcastic smile, shooting him a thumbs up.

Creative writing isn't exactly my favorite. Anything school related is not to my liking really. And I still don't like how they call the class an elective when the person who has to sit through it for forty five minutes sure as hell didn't choose it.

Steven discretely slipped a folded piece of paper on my desk when the teacher wasn't looking. I smirked. Oh look, the golden child is trying to break few rules. Aye, maybe I'm finally rubbing off on him. I unfolded the paper and read his perfect hand writing.

~Now you're shy? Don't play daft with me Damien. Just tell me you're afraid of me giving you blue balls.~

I smiled at the paper. The nerve of this boy. I glanced over to him before scribbling down my response.

~Are you kidding me? I have a hand, Steven. The only time you scare me is when you start using your foreign ass scholar words. Like 'daft'. What the hell does that mean anyway?~

I slipped the piece of paper back to him, then focused my attention to the game of Angry birds on my phone. Hearing him laugh, I glanced in his direction to see him crumbling up the piece of paper.

When he smiles it shows off his dimples. He'll never admit to it though, since he wants to look mature at every moment, but it makes him look even younger than his actual age. It's really adorable. He's the most attractive person I've ever seen in my life.

''Boys,'' Mr. Richards voice caught our attention. Steven and I both looked up at him. ''Either you can read it out loud, or I can. But just so you know Damien,'' He locked eyes with me giving me a stern look. I smiled back innocently just to piss him off. ''After you pretend to read it, I will read it.''

I rolled my eyes.

Turning to Steven, I gave him a 'what the hell' look, but he was busy staring at the teacher with a pleading expression on his face.

How did we even get caught? We barely passed more than two notes.

Wait!

We only passed two notes. Does this man have eyes in the back of his head or something?

How the hell did he even see past my book fort? This is complete b.s.

''Any day now,'' Mr. Richards said, impatiently. Everyone’s attention was on us. The room suddenly felt like it was getting hotter. I took in a nervous breath.

Literally the first sentence on that paper gave away our secret. And there's no telling what Steven wrote on that paper before he crumbled it up. This is great, just fucking great!

I sighed, reaching my hand out towards Steven so that he could give me the paper. He handed it to me and the feeling of eyes watching me became even more evident.

I quickly shoved the balled up piece of paper in my mouth. When dreamed about deep throating so well that I'd have balls in my throat, this is not what I imagined.

I gaged at least three times trying to swallow it. The class watched in amusement and the teacher stared in dull annoyment. This is the fourth year Mr. Richards has had to deal with me, I'm pretty sure he's used to it by now.

Oh and Steven seemed to enjoy the show. He was laughing so hard his complexion had changed to fifty shades of pink.

''Steven, take your goat to the nurse. When you're done you can go down to the gym and explain and explain to your coaches why you both will be missing practice today because of the detention Damien just earned you.'' Mr. Richards spoke, immediately going back to his lesson after that.

I grabbed my things, shoving them into my backpack and exiting the classroom. A laughing Steven followed me out. I didn't find it funny at all. I felt like there was a ball stuck in my throat, and not the good kind. Plus, paper and ink taste really nasty together.

He was still laughing once we were further down the hall. I gritted my teeth, shoving him into a locker and continuing to walk.

Of course he caught up to me though, the boy is captain of the soccer team, he has legs.

''Shoving the defenseless Asian kid into the locker won't change the fact that you looked stupid.'' He told me, still laughing.

I stopped walking, turning to face him. I pinned him against the wall before he had a chance to react. Capturing his lips in mine, I stole what was left of his air. I should've suffocated the laughing bastard with my lips.

''I did it for you, you fucking idiot so please, stop telling me how stupid I looked, I know,'' I said once I had separated our lips, deciding to let him live. ''What the hell did you write on that paper after you crumbled it up?'' I asked him.

He pushed me back, getting off of the wall. I watched his cheeks flame up as he went into deep blush mode. I laughed, shaking my head.

''Wow,'' I said. ''That bad huh?'' I asked him seriously. He didn't answer me and we started walking again in silence. I wasn't even mad at him for almost getting us caught. It's both our fault. But we really have to be more careful, this town is like the headquarters for homophobia.

''Steven, what if Mr. Richards would have took the paper from you before he warned us?'' The question slipped free from my mind before I really thought about it.

I hate it when my thoughts escape my head. I'd rather just keep it to myself, it makes me feel like an idiot sometimes.

Steven glanced at me briefly.

''I guess--I mean I don't know. I know you would've had my back with it, but I don't really want to think about it, Damien.'' He whispered. I could hear the fear in his voice. ''But that's just bro-code right? We have each others back no matter what?'' He asked, offering his hand out to me.

I took his hand in mine, nodding in agreement.

Two jocks who are secretly gay together.

Two reputations and lives on the line if anyone ever finds out.

A millions things to worry about every minute we're in public together, trying our hardest to hide our feelings for each other.

''Yeah,'' I spoke with ease, ''Just bro-code.''

It's easier to lie when you're happy. With Steven, I'm happy.
*Steven's POV*
View attachment 1183934

I'm infuriated with him. I know he knows that I am.
But of course I can't express that with him because he did just save both of our asses. Then again...he did just prevent me from going to soccer practice.
He's an asshole.

Although I can't help but smile at the thought that he's my asshole. That doesn't change the fact that I'm going to kick his ass for this.

I suddenly feel someone breathing down my neck, turning around to see Damien ogling me with curious hazy blue eyes. A scoff left my lips as I pinpointed the look in his eyes as lust.
When isn't he horny?

''What?'' I ask him, starting a slow walk in the direction of the detention he earned us. Of course he began to follow closely behind me. Extremely close.

''Nothing,'' He spoke, giving me my response, ''You just look sexy when you think.'' He whispers in my ear. I raise a brow at him, putting my hand over his face and pushing him away.
If he thinks we're about to be all buddy-buddy and discretely cozied up in detention he's dead wrong. I'm still pissed at him.
''You're not off the hook,'' I inform him. I hear a sigh leave his lips. I glance over my shoulder to see him shaking his head.
I don't care if he feels like I'm being inconsiderate right now. Soccer is important to me, and missing this practice means I can't play in the game tomorrow.
And it's not some big secret that if you miss a practice before an event you won't be allowed to participate. He knows this, he's on the football team. Then again missing practice doesn't affect his eligibility to perform at all since he's the quarterback.
Believe it or not, but I'm sure it's pretty damn believable, they allow him to play no matter what because they know they need him to win.
He can go to two practices a week if he wants and completely skip their weekend practices and you'll still see him in the game on Friday.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking bad about him. He's a really good football player, with or without the practice. It's so effortless for him. And I'm over here killing myself to be the best not only in the classroom but on the soccer field as well.
I mean, I barely even made it on the varsity soccer team because of my age, and now I have the honor of being the captain. Just so you know, I'm not really the stereotype Asian, if that wasn't already blatantly obvious, but I did skip a grade so that I could take more advanced classes.
But that didn't exactly help me in the sports area because a team full of seventeen and eighteen-year old's don't want a sixteen year old on the team, let alone as their team captain. So at least I know that they'll be more than happy to hear I'm out of the game tomorrow. They can thank Damien for that.

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Ugh, asshole.

''If you were gonna be such a bitch about it Steven, you shouldn't have passed the note in the first place. I'm not afraid to admit that I screwed up, okay? I know that. But use that brain of yours for a minute, because so did you.'' He says, taking faster strides to walk ahead of me.
I roll my eyes. If that was his attempt at making me feel bad it wouldn't work. I have a high wall of protection around my emotions Damien Vitalé, and you my asshole of a friend, will not penetrate that wall.
''And in case you're too stuck in your own head to realize it, everything I did in that classroom, I did for you.'' He says over his shoulder before entering Mr. Richards class. I sigh, shaking my head.
Well, there goes my fucking wall.
I guess now it is my turn to pull my head out of my ass and apologize to him. Something a lot worse could've happened besides me missing a single game. Something like Mr. Richards seeing what I wrote on that paper.
Just thinking about it is making me blush.
Even though apologizing isn't my favorite thing in the world to do I know I have to stop being a dick and be grateful for Damien because the only reason Mr. Richards didn't see that note is because of what he did.
Now he's mad at me.

Great, we're mad at each other now.
I just have yet to understand why we act like this. So caring towards each others emotions. We aren't in a relationship, we're not, but it certainly does feel that way when someone crosses a line or gets emotionally hurt. It pulls us deeper into whatever this thing is that we've been secretly building for a while now.
And speaking of emotions, I can feel my emotions for this asshole growing. When Damien and I are together, when we're intimate, I swear he's a completely different person.
He scares the hell out of me with how rough he can be whenever we decide to take it down that road. He doesn't hold back at all, biting, scratching, sucking, breaking the thin layer of my skin to leave his mark for weeks.
But when he's gentle...damn I hate the gentle Damien Vitalé at times and how he can keep me on edge for hours with no end to the way his lips would gently caress my heated skin.
And damn, I must admit that I love it.

I love everything about him when he's with me.
I enter the classroom, heading to the back to take a seat. I like the back of the classroom, besides being peaceful the view is always better from this angle.
I quickly spot Damien on the opposite side of the classroom, looking extremely committed to tapping furiously at the screen of his phone. Right beside him some hopeless girl, -I think her name is Kayla, I recognize her from Civics-, tries desperately to get his attention to no avail.
Even though she's really attractive and resembles the exact type of girl Damien would sleep around with before him and I started...started what we have going on, I'm not worried. I know he won't give her the time of day, and while deep down that made me extremely happy, it also made outsiders view him as a massive jerk.
Their logic is that since the most popular jock and fuckboy of the school went from screwing every girl that walks these halls to not screwing anyone of them at all, clearly he's become conceited beyond reprimand.

I mean I can think of more logical reasons he's a jerk but I'll just keep that to myself.
''Okay, take your seats.'' Mr. Richards speaks, leisurely entering the room. He takes a seat behind his desk, taking test papers out and beginning to grade them.
A quiet laugh escapes my lips. I already know I have an A on that.
''I want thirty minutes of absolute silence, oh and Mr. Vitalé,'' Mr. Richards says, looking up from his work to stare intently at Damien.
Damien looks up into Mr. Richards eyes with a knowing smirk. ''Please try your best not to consume anything else that might affect your health in any way. As much as I live for the thought of suspending you, I really hate paperwork.''
I suppressed the laughter that attempted to leap from my lips. Although that didn't stop me from grinning ear to ear.
Of course I don't actually think Damien is stupid. Whether he chooses to admit it or not, he's really good at school yet he purposely refuses to put forth effort. It's seriously not even that hard.
I have to bribe him with blowjobs just to make him show up on occasion.
To my surprise the time flew by. Mr. Richards released us from detention with ten minutes to spare. I leave the classroom heading in the direction of the locker room.
I might as well go beg the coach to let me play tomorrow since clearly I have nothing better to do than avoid my problems.

I know I have to apologize to Damien...and I will.
Just as soon as I can find a way to shove my pride somewhere where it wont get in the way for a couple of minutes. Until then, I'll just keep my distance from him. That shouldn't be too hard, it's not like we're attached at the hip or something.

I walk into the locker room, the smell of sweat and musk evading my nostrils. Unfortunately I'm used to that smell, so it doesn't bother me so much. I walk towards the back of the room where the coaches office is.
''Well Yeiun, it's nice to see your face around here. Although I am sure I should've seen you ten minutes before practice even started Mr. Varsity Team Captain.'' Coach says, not even giving me the chance to step into his office before those words leave his lips.

I sigh, walking over to his desk. Before I can reply, he speaks again, not even glancing up from the playbook in his hands.

''Look Yeiun,'' He puts the playbook down on his desk, looking me in the eyes, ''When I made the decision to make you captain of the varsity team it wasn't to set a new trend or to prove that the underclassmen athletes have the same skill levels as the upperclassmen athletes.
I put you in this position because you showed me that you had ambition, drive, passion, talent and commitment. I told you that it was going to be hard getting your teammates to look to you as a leader because of the age gap, and you told me you could handle it.
Now I've been seeing you trying with them, but missing the final practice before the first game of the season isn't how you earn their respect, or mines. Do you get where I'm coming from?''

''Yes, sir.''

''Good, good. Now as far as playing in tomorrow's games, you're in. Vitalé was in here a couple of minutes ago explaining to me how Mr. Richards gave you both a detention for something that he did. So you're off the hook this time, but don't let detention become a regular thing.
You're a good kid Yeiun, don't let stupid shit hold you back. I understand you're trying to fit in, but maybe Vitalé and his crowd of friends aren't the right people for you.
Think about it, and close my door on your way out.'' Coach says, picking the playbook back up.
I nod my head, leaving his office, shutting the door as I go.
I'm happy as hell that I didn't just get his playbook thrown at my head. I can't stress enough on how much it means to me to be the captain of the varsity soccer team.

This is really big for me, and for Damien to almost fuck that up with that stupid detention just pisses me off.
Then again the asshole did just save my ass.

''Fuck,'' I mumble, walking out of the school.
He just saved my ass for the second time today. First with the note and now with the game tomorrow.
Why would he do that?

I'm not being ungrateful, I can't thank him enough for what he's done but that still doesn't kill my curiosity on why he did it.
This, 'taking one for the team' attitude has never been apart of Damien's personality.
I didn't think he'd throw himself out on the line like that for me to play in the game. Football is important as hell to him and he really just risked not playing in the game tomorrow so that I would be able to play in mines.
And here I am, all day just being an oblivious jerk.
I hate myself, I've never felt more stupid than I feel right now. And that's saying a lot, considering I'm the smartest kid in this school.
Wow.

I might as well add egotistical to my list of flaws with a statement like that.
I figure Damien will need a ride home since I drove him to school today, but when I make it to the parking lot he's nowhere to be found.
I sigh, climbing into my car and starting it up.
I should've known he'd be so pissed at my ungrateful attitude that he'd push me away. I'm not mad, I know I deserve it.
I've been acting like a bitch to him all day when he's treated me like the complete opposite of that.
I didn't mean to, I'm just so fucking blinded by myself sometimes.

I pull out of the parking lot, driving in the direction of his house.

The sooner he realizes that I'm not that easy to get rid of, the quicker he'll understand how I'm starting to feel about him.
Although I'll never just come right out and tell him.
And we are what we are.

Friends...

Brothers...

And lovers.


*Damien's POV*
View attachment 1183935

Caring about people and having feelings for them and shit, it's nothing but a bunch of bullshit I swear it. I mean look at this shit, I basically just sacrificed my life twice for this ungrateful kid and all that he can think about is himself.
So what do I get for doing what I did for him?
Nothing.
Just him being pissed at me because things didn't go his way. Not him being thankful that I saved both our asses. I don't even need him to say thank you but damn some simple gratitude would be nice.

Honestly, I don't even really care about the fact that he's mad.
Steven can be mad all he wants. What's really bothering me is the fact that he likes to assign blame but when something is actually his fault he can't accept that.
You know what?

Fuck him.
I feel this sprout of laughter take over me.
Fucking him is exactly what I won't be doing tonight, or any night to come for that matter.
In all seriousness, we've yet to go that far. And I would never push the subject of sex with him. I'm not a virgin so to speak because I've slept with plenty of girls, but I've never slept with a guy. And he knows that I want to have sex with him.
But on the other hand, he is a virgin and...I don't know. I guess I'm just so used to being with girls and sleeping with them whenever I pleased that I'm not used to not being able to sleep with the person that I want to, when I want to.
And I would never 'cheat' on Steven and go have sex with a female just because he won't sleep with me. But I'm not going to lie and act like he doesn't piss me off when he acts like he doesn't want to sleep with me at all.
I mean maybe it's not an act.
We've been fooling around with each other for a while now and I'll continue to wait as long as he needs me to until we can take that next step, but my feelings for him are starting to get kind of more than personal, and I don't think it's the same for him.

I don't know.
I don't know what's going on with him these days. Or with us. But to be honest I don't feel like wasting my time by wrecking my brain to try and figure it out.
I helped him today, not once but twice. Twice I saved his ass.

God only knows what my parents would do to me if they knew I was attracted to guys. I take enough shit and enough hits as it is on the football field, I don't need even more at home.
Steven's parents are an entirely different story though. They are all traditional and shit. Hell they'd probably disown him or something crazy like that if they ever find out what he's doing with his best friend in the closet. His parents creep me the fuck out.
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There's a knock on my room door.

''Come in,'' I yell. I see my little brother Cody running down the stairs. Yes, down the stairs.
I took the basement and converted it into my room. I know my house is basically like a mansion there's ten rooms in this house, but I like the basement. I get peace, privacy, and it's...secure.
''Did you finish your homework yet?'' I ask him when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. He walks over to me. I sit up on my bed and look at him.

''Almost—''

''Then we can almost talk, after you finish your homework.'' I tell him. I pick my cellphone up from beside me on my bed. Cody sighs, causing me to look back over at him. ''Do you need me to help you?'' I ask him.
He shakes his head.
I put my phone down.

''Come here,'' I say, gesturing for him to have a seat next to me. He sits beside me on my bed. His head is hung low, but I catch a glimpse of his expression and I can see that something is bothering them.
''What's up?'' I ask him. He shrugs. That's a tell sign that I'm going to have to ease this out of him.
Cody is very closed off when he wants to be for reasons that I completely understand. When you grow up in a household like this you learn to be invisible, quiet, and keep every thought that crosses your mind to yourself at all times.
''Cody you can tell me what's bothering you, I'm your brother you can always tell me anything.'' I assure him. He glances up at me with that worried look of his in his emerald eyes.
''I just—I just don't like leaving you alone in this house with them Damien. I know that it's best for me to sleep at Connors' house when he's back in town but I don't like leaving you here. It makes me feel bad.'' Cody admits, looking into my eyes.
I can see the puddles forming in his eyes and with a single blink the tears cascade down his face. I sigh, reaching over to wipe my brothers face, proceeding to pull him closer to me for a hug.
''Don't you ever feel bad for me, Cody. I'm going to be alright. Okay? Look at me,'' I release him from the hug, staring into his teary eyes as I muster up the most believable face I can possibly display. ''I'm going to be just fine. You don't have to worry about me. I'm your older brother, it's my job to worry about you not the other way around.'' I say, hopping to soothe him.
He nods his head at me.
''Okay, I guess I'll drop you off early and you can finish your homework at Connors house. Go pack a bag for the week.'' I tell him.
He gets up from my bed and leaves my room, going to get his things ready.
I sigh, laying back against my bed.
I'm not going to be just fine when our father gets back into town tonight. I mean unless you consider just fine a broken nose and a few bruised ribs.
I'm sure as soon as his plane lands he'll make his way to the bar that's nearest to the airport. Then he'll take a taxi to the house, come home and greet us and everything will be fine for a while as he goes upstairs to unpack his suitcase.
And then things won't be fine.
Then my mother becomes a punching bag that works to alleviate my fathers stress.
And me? What do I become?
I become the bandages that wrap around a beaten punching bag. Pushing her to the side and taking all the hits for her.
And when morning rolls around she powders on a new layer of makeup and they'll both pretend like nothing happened. She'll refuse to look me in my eyes because of the guilt she feels for letting her husband put his hands on me.
And my father? He'll make some joke about how football is really getting the better of me this year with all the new bruises I'm sporting lately.
Fucking in denial, abusive alcoholic.
And me? I'm just going to keep my mouth shut. Because I care about the people that I'm taking the hits to protect more than I care about myself.
I brush all of this from my mind, getting up from my bed. I grab my car keys from my dresser and make my way upstairs.
I walk down the hall over to the main stairwell in the house.
''Cody are you ready to go?'' I yell up the stairs. A minute later he comes running down the stairs, a backpack in one hand and a gym bag in the other.

''Let's go!'' He screams, running past me and for the front door. Okay so now I'm basically deaf.

I follow him outside, looking the front door behind me. He tosses his stuff into the backseat of the car, climbing into the passenger seat as I get into the drivers' seat.
I put my seatbelt on, waiting until he does the same before I start up the car and back out of the driveway.
I start heading in the direction of his best friend Connors house. It's nearly a thirty-minute drive and about fifteen minutes in my phone starts to ring.
''Answer it for me,'' I tell Cody. He gets my phone from my pocket, hitting the answer button and placing it to his ear.
He exchanges greetings with whoever's on the phone for a minute.

''Well we're in the car right now, he can't talk,'' Cody says. He looks at me. ''Steven wants to know if you can hangout at his house later.'' Cody informs me.
I shake my head.
''He doesn't want to hangout with you,'' Cody replies bluntly. I roll my eyes, coming to a halt at a red light and reaching over to take the phone from Cody's hands.
I put the phone to my ear.
''Steven I'm busy,'' I say simply before hanging the phone up and continuing to drive when the light changes colors.
''Liar,'' I hear Cody mumble in a sing-song voice.

''Am I not driving you somewhere?'' I ask him.
''Well you won't be in about ten minutes.'' He responds.
''Mhmm,'' I reply dryly.
We reach Connors house within the next ten minutes. Cody grabs his stuff from the backseat before hopping out of the car.
''Hey!'' I scream out of the window, honking the horn. ''I love you, I'll see you soon.''

''I love you too,'' He yells back, making his way up to Connors front door.
I drive away, going back to my house. The next thirty minutes are filled with the radio quietly spurting out a song now and again.
I pull up in my driveway, turning my car off and getting out. I make it to my front door, only to glance around and see Steven's car parked on the curb. I sigh, unlocking my front door and walking into my house.
I make my way down to my bedroom, not surprised in the slightest to see Steven in my room, digging through my dresser.

''What are you doing?'' I ask him, walking over to my dresser.
''Packing you some clothes obviously. Where do you think you're sleeping tonight? Here?'' He asks me sarcastically.
I walk over to him, putting all the clothes that he had taken out of my dresser back in it. ''I locked my front door when I left. You broke into my house and,'' I close my drawer, '' You're invading my privacy.''

He turns to look at me, his arms folded across his chest.
''Look I fucked up, okay?'' He offers. I just stand there. I'm not about to make this so easy for him. He fucks up all the time the only difference to this time is for some reason it hurt more.
It hurt a hell of a lot more.
He looks me in my eyes. I stare back into his deep brown eyes.
''You know what I'm trying to say,'' He attempts again. I shake my head, walking over to my bed and taking a seat.
Steven resumes taking my clothes from my dresser and tossing them into his athletics bag.

''Whenever you're finished packing my clothes for no reason at all, you should leave before my Dad gets here.'' I tell him.
Steven tosses the bag on the floor, turning around and walking towards me.
''Look I don't care how much of an asshole you're being to me right now, it's not changing the fact that you're sleeping at my fucking house tonight.'' He shouts at me.
''What about your annoying, overbearing helicopter parents?'' I ask him idly. He shrugs his shoulders.
''I'll sneak you in,'' He concludes.
''Steven unless you plan on sneaking me in for the entire week, don't waste your time. It doesn't matter if I dodge a beating tonight, because I know that it'll be coming my way regardless.'' I tell him seriously.
Yes, I would love to spend the night with Steven and not in my fucking house with my father, but it won't change the whole situation in its entirety. I'd rather just deal with it instead of playing a game of dodgeball.
Steven looks to the ground. I hear him intake a deep breath of air before he exhales it. ''I'm sorry,'' He apologizes, still not looking up at me. ''I'm an idiot sometimes Damien, but I do care. And I'm not letting you sleep here.''

He looks into my eyes again finally.
''Forgive me?'' He asks.
I stand up, grabbing Steven and pulling him closer. I let my hand gently stroke his cheek before leaning in and kissing his lips. I set him free from the kiss, looking at his face to see tears falling from his eyes.
I smile, wiping the tears away. ''That was me accepting your apology idiot, why are you crying?'' I taunt him.
He shakes his head. His arms come up to wrap around my neck. I feel more tears hitting my skin.
''Steven...'' I say quietly. I wrap my arms around him, hugging him back. ''Tell me what's wrong,'' I beg him.
I feel him shaking his head against my neck.

''Just hold me—hold me close please,'' He hiccups out through tears.
I guide us down to the bed. I lay on my back so that Steven can rest his head on my chest.
Getting things out of Steven isn't as easy as getting things out of Cody. With Steven I had to wait until he was ready to tell me. If I pry we'll just end up fighting about it and that won't get us anywhere.
So for now I guess I'll just be left worrying until he decides that he's ready to tell me.
I can't stop hearing his voice in my head when he told me that he cares about me.
There are different meanings for the word care. I don't know what he means.

What I do know is that I care.
I want to do more than just hold him close. That's the type of care I'm feeling. I want to keep him, take him, have him.

Honestly, at this point I feel like I can actually handle and get happiness out of putting up with his shit for the rest of my life.

I want him to be mines. But sadly, wanting isn't enough.
*STEVEN P.O.V.*
View attachment 1183937

Almost...almost..almost...
''Dammit Carter!'' I yelled as I threw the game controller to the floor. He erupted in laughter. Same as Jackson and Damien.

''You lost prep boy, don't take it out on my game controller.'' Jackson said. I sighed shaking my head. I did'nt lose, Carter cheated.
''Whatever, I'm going to get something to drink.'' I said getting up and tossing Jackson the controller. Let's see how much fun he has losing to the cheating Carter. I walked out of the main room and into the kitchen. I would much rather be relaxing at Damiens house, cuddled up with him as we watched Netflix all day, but no we just had to hangout with Jackson and Carter today.

I was'nt complaining because I did'nt like them. They were my friends just as much as they were Damiens, but I'd just rather be anywhere but here. Well that's a lie, because honestly I'd rather be anywhere but at my house.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Damien looking at me with the same worried expression he's had since last night.
''I'm fine.'' I repeated to him for the fifth time today. It may have been a lie but he couldn't help me with what I was going through. My family was my problem, and if I told him what was going on then he'd feel bad, and I did'nt want that.

''Don't lie to me Steven, I know you.'' Damien said. His hand left my shoulder and moved to my waist as he pulled me in close to him for a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging more tightly to him than I wanted to be. I fought back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes. I have to hold it in, it'll all blow over quickly, I know it will.
The tears won the battle, and soon they were staining my face. I held my sobs in as they ran relentlessly down my face.

''Aye Damien get in here! It's your turn to get your ass kicked!'' Carter yelled from the main room. I heard Damien sigh before he moved his hands from my waist, and with me refusing to let him go, he had to basically pry my arms from around his neck.
He took a step back, looking at me. His expression still never changed, only now he looked as worried as ever. I should'nt have just broke down, I probably ruined his entire day, because I know now he'll suggest that we go home. And even though I'll assure him that he can stay and hang with our friends he'll refuse easily. It's such a played out routine.

He lifted his hand to my face, wiping the fallen tears away. I sighed and turned my head away from him. I was never this bad at keeping my emotions in check. I turned my head back to face him, and was caught in a kiss. I went to put my hands on his cheeks but his hands caught mine, entwining our fingers and squeezing tightly.

He pulled away and I was'nt ready to set him free just yet, but I knew that it was beyond dangerous for him to have even hugged me in the first place. He released my hands and rested his forehead against mine.

''Your public face is horrible.'' He whispered out to me laughing quietly. He was referring to the way we had to act with each other when we were'nt alone or in private. I smiled pulling back from him and looking into his light blue eyes.

''Stay'' I suggested. ''I'll only be moping in my own problems all day, and besides you really wanted to hang with them.'' He shook his head smiling back at me.

''We both know how this argument is going to end, so should we skip the meaningless conversation? Because either way I'm coming, and dude I'm your ride idiot, I'm leaving either way.'' He said, shaking his head like he was surprised at my sudden lack of common sense. Actually I was a bit shocked at that as well.

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We said bye to Jackson and Carter, then climbed into Damiens car and made our way over to his house. The ride was silent, but I guess he did'nt yet notice that I had in fact noticed him stealing glances at me every three minutes. Jocks, there so creepy I swear.
''Stop it.'' I murmured, feeling a blush sneak its way onto my cheek after he just looked at me and smiled.
''I can't help it.'' He admitted, stopping at a red light. ''You have that look on your face again, the one where I can tell your over thinking something, and you look so damn sexy.'' He stated smiling at me.
I knew my face was probably bright red right now. I hated it when he said things like that, it made me blush repeatedly. ''Give me a kiss.'' He said. I laughed, shaking my head no. ''Please babe.'' He said fluttering his eyes and poking out his bottom lip.
I just stared at him frozen. Did he just call me babe? Oh god no. What was happening, I did'nt need this not now at least. He caught on to his mistake as well, I'm hoping it was a mistake, he turned his gaze from me looking down at his hand that rested on his lap.
''Um. Green light.'' I choked out quietly in the awkward silence. He continued to drive and when we pulled into his parking lot neither of us bothered to get out of the car. I was'nt going to move until he moved.
''I did'nt mean anything by it. It just sort of slipped out.'' He said turning to look at me. I wish this was'nt on my mind right now. I was'nt mad that he had called me babe, but I could'nt be happy about it either even though I honestly wanted to be. I knew I had to tell him why I was upset sooner or later. I mean he would start to come to a conclusion when I begin to repeatedly crash at his house for the rest of my life.
I couldn't go home. Not after what happened.
''Look we don't have to talk about this. It was just a slip up and-'' I unbuckled my seat belt and basically threw myself into his lap, as I captured his lips with mine. He did'nt get a chance to ask me for entrance before my tongue had already invaded his mouth taking control. His hands were at my back and they trailed down to roughly grope my butt. I let a groan escape from between our lips as I ran my fingers through his hair.
I captured his bottom lip in between my teeth. Pulling playfully before letting go and resting my head on his forehead. I leaned down to gently kiss his lips again before pulling back and smiling.
''Call me what ever you want.'' I whispered to him.
*******
*******
*******
''Give me the remote Damien.'' I said angrily as he held it above his head, out of my reach smiling. He thought this was a joke, well I did'nt! God he knows just how to ruin a perfect moment. Not even five minutes ago we were laying peacefully on his bed kissing each others faces off while The Walking Dead played loudly in the background.
''No, no way. Not until you tell me.'' He said in a serious tone. I sighed moving over to his bed where I layed down and basically tried to smother myself with a pillow. I did'nt get that far before then pillow was pulled from my face and a pair of soft lips slammed into mine.
''Now tell me.'' Damien said, pulling back from the unexpected kiss. I sighed again and turned on my side facing away from him. I did'nt want to tell him even though I had too. He should'nt have to worry. If he knew, I know he was going to through his own neck out on the line for me. And that's exactly what I did'nt want.
I felt him wrap his arm around my waist pulling me back and into his warm chest. He rested his head on the side of my neck, and I held onto the hand that he had wrapped around me. He was spooning me, I never in my life thought that I'd be the little spoon. I did'nt feel like complaining, I knew he was only trying to make me feel better, and it was working.
His embrace had me feeling so safe. ''It's about your parents, is'nt it?'' He asked, I felt his warm breath hit my neck. I mentally sighed. I was about to tell him everything, it would'nt help to lie to him any longer. He'd guess it sooner or later.
''My Mom walked into my room when I had just taken a shower, so all I had was a towel wrapped around my waist. She saw the hickeys on my chest and shoulder, then rushed over to me like I was dying or something. Of course I got in trouble for them, but we still had to discuss it with my Dad. She picked diner later that day to bring it up, and my Dad was furious with me, you know how religiously strict my parents are. But what made it worse was that my sister had to choose that moment of all times to make a stupid joke about me being gay.'' I said to him, forcing my self to restrain the tears. I guess he could sense I was on the verge of crying because he tightened his hold around me and placed a gentle kiss on my neck.
''Everyone at the table thought it was funny except me because I was the only one not laughing. When they finished I replied to her with a simple 'Yeah, and?' I swear it looked like they were different people the way the were staring incredulously at me. Then my Dad broke the silence by asking me if I was homosexual. I could'nt answer him, but I'm pretty sure the way I stormed out of the house after that gave them all the answer that they feared most.'' By the time I had got all that out my eyes had watered and spilled over.
''Shh it's okay. We can fix this if you want we can make it all go away.'' He said turning me in his arms so that I was facing him. He had me beneath him as he climbed on top me letting his weight rest on me. He kissed my lips lightly and I let my hand gently caress his cheek. ''Or we can accept it. I like you Steven, much more than an experiment or a free hookup every other day.'' He said separating our lips.
''I don't want to have to play public face anymore, and I don't want you to have to suffer through this alone. You should've told me sooner that, that's what made you so upset. I'm going to come out to my parents, this is all my fault anyway. I kissed you first that night.'' He said looking guilty and ashamed.
I pulled him closer to me pecking his lips gently, before pulling back. ''No Damien-''
''You can't change my mind. I'm doing it...for you.'' He said cutting me off and placing a kiss to my cheek before we got back into our previous positions. What had I done? I'm fine with my life being over, but now he was just going to give his up for me.
All for me.*
DAMIEN'S P.O.V.*
View attachment 1183938
''Just one more please.'' I asked childishly. Steven grinned at me and crawled back atop me, forcing me to lay down on my bed as he straddled me.

''Did you do your homework?'' He asked leaning in close to me. I shook my head at him as I stuck my tongue out and he caught it between his teeth. A quiet groan left my lips as I stared up at him in shock. I never knew he had a kinky side, that just makes him so much more sexier.
He closed the distance between us bringing my tongue into his mouth and sucking roughly on it. I ran my hand through his raven black hair, as my other trailed down his back to grope his butt lightly. He moaned releasing my tongue from his mouth, and sitting up on me.

I laughed and shook my head. ''Well damn, I wonder what else that mouth of yours can do.'' I purred seductively. He laughed getting off of me. He reached his hand out to me and I took it getting to my feet.
I found my self being wrapped into his embrace as his arms found there way around my neck, pulling me into an air restricting hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I knew why he was clinging to me so tightly, and I refuse to change my decision.
''Please.'' He whispered into the crook of my neck. ''Don't do it, we can pretend this never happened. We can go back to getting wasted and screwing girls on the weekend. I'll never talk to you again if that's what it'll take for us to go back to normal.'' He stopped for a second and I could hear him began to sob as his warm tears hit my shoulder. I was suppose to be the one crying, not him.

''It hurts Damien. I love you, and it hurts, because they say I shouldn't. I won't believe them. Please, just tell me you don't feel the same, tell me your feelings aren't as strong.'' He begged me. But I wouldn't, I refused to lie to him, even though I knew I probably should.
This feeling of shame and vulnerability was so new to him, he lived off of stability, and it was hard for him to break away from it since he'd grown up around it. He said he loved me. Steven loved me. And if this didn't go well his love was the only love I'd ever need.
''C'mon.'' I said breaking our hug and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before walking over to my closet and grabbing my duffel bag off my dresser. I threw random clothes in before zipping it up and throwing it over my shoulder. He looked confused as I took his hand and led him out of my room. When we got into the dining room where my parents were idlely chatting while drowning themselves in their work, I let out a sigh. It would really snow in hell if they ever looked up from their laptops long enough to see if I was even alive.
I felt him trying to pull his hand from my grip, but I held on tighter. I could do this, but I needed him. He was the only thing that gave me the strength to do this.
''Mom, Dad.'' I said casually, trying to get there attention, if only just for a second. They weren't paying me any mind though. ''Excuse me!'' I basically yelled. They both glanced my way before quickly going back to their work, but my Dad did a double take as he looked at me again and his eyes zeroed in on me and Stevens clasped hands. The look that covered his face, had cold bitter chills going down my spine, I knew Steven felt it too as he tried yet again to pull away from me but I wouldn't let him.

''Damien Kristopher Vitale.'' My father spoke sternly, his cold gaze shifting to look me in my eyes. Oh god, you know your dead when your parents use your full name. I broke his gaze for a second as I glanced over at my Mother. She had stopped what she was doing as well and was staring at me with careful eyes. She had a stoic expression on her face, but I was praying that whatever she was thinking wasn't as harsh as whatever my Dad was thinking.

''Dad.'' I said turning so I had both my parents in my sight. ''Mom, I'm in love-''

''Choose your next words carefully son. I advise you to choose them very very carefully.'' He seethed at me. His jaw was clenched. If his balled fist didn't give away the fact that he was beyond pissed, the threatening tone in his voice sure did. I didn't think the situation would go grim so quickly.
I gripped on tighter to Stevens hand. I needed him more than I needed air at this moment. ''I'm gay.'' I said with a low voice, in fear of it cracking. My eyes were averted to looking at my shoes. I was scared to look up. Scared to face that look of disappointment that I knew would be on their faces. I wasn't what they wanted, and now they knew that.
' 'Get out.'' My fathers voice was much more calm than I expected it to be. I looked up to see him holding on so tightly to his phone to where I'm sure it was about to shatter into his hands. My Mom stared at him in a daze of surprise and anger.

''Jared-''

''No, Beth.'' He said slamming his hand on the table, causing all three of us to jump. ''Get out before I do something that I'm going to be arrested for.'' He said, his hatred filled eyes scorching into me.
I stood there, to in shock to move. I expected this, I did which is why I had already packed me some clothes. But for him to threaten me... my own father.
No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't happening. ''Mom?'' I asked feeling myself on the brink of tears. She was already crying. Her lightly tanned skinned now a shade of deep pink as tears streamed down her cheek. Her long brown hair flowing past her shoulders as she ran a shaky hand through it.
''Sweetie.'' She said getting up, almost making her way over to me but my Dad beat her to it. He pushed her to the side. I'm sure he didn't mean to but he practically threw her small frame into the wall. A high pitched scream escaped her lips as her head hit the wall and she fell limp to the floor. The look of horror on my face, barely showed how I truly felt.
My Dad grabbed a handful of my shirt, pulling me off my feet, and pinning me against the main room wall. Stevens hand left mine as he backed away with a petrified look on his face. I wanted to try to get out of my fathers grip but I was only thinking of my mom. I knew she wasn't dead, the blow to her head was only hard enough to make her go unconscious but the fact that he did that. The fact that he's doing this.
I turned my attention back to my dad as I saw his fist raising in the air from the corner of my eye. I turned my head just in time to catch the blow that hit my jaw and had me spitting blood. My entire face felt numb. I coughed, choking on the blood that was caught in my throat.
I felt his hand leave my shirt and I fell to knees clutching my stomach as I stared up at my Dad. I didn't need a mirror to show my expression. I'm sure how I felt was very evident on my face. I saw the sudden change in his eyes, as they went from anger and hate to regret and shock. He stared at me and back to his hand that was stained with my blood.

''Get out.'' He breath in a lifeless tone, after a moment of silence. ''Just-Just leave. Now!'' He yelled moving over to my Mother, and pushing Steven away from her. I could see she was slowly regaining consciousness. I was still in shock, but gladly Steven was beside me in less than a second, pulling me to my feet and rushing us both out the door.
My head was spinning, and it wasn't just from the collision of his fist to my face. No, I was confused, heartbroken, torn, and horrifically astonished. That wasn't the Father I grew up with, that was not the man that I looked up to. He was no longer my Father. And I couldn't help but blame myself.*
Steven P.O.V*
View attachment 1183939

I feel like I deserve to die, like I deserve to be disowned by my family and never loved again. It was my fault. I did this. I'm the reason for it happening.

I didn't know what to say. He sat next to me in my car, as I drove us to the furthest hotel from our town. All I knew is that we had to get away. I was useless. Completely useless as his Dad abused him.

I sighed shaking my head. It was all my fault.

"I'm fine." He said quietly to me, reaching over and taking my free hand in his. He squeezed my hand tightly in reassurance but I didn't squeeze back. He'd been saying that this whole time and I know when he's lying to me. I hate it when he lies to me.

"I'm not." I admitted. My voice was barely above a whisper, but I knew he heard me. I pulled into the lot of the hotel. Taking the keys out the car I closed my eyes and took a breath, hoping to get a grasp on myself. On my stability.

Before I could open my eyes again a pair of soft lips met mine, kissing me sweetly. I brought my hand up to caress his cheek but quickly recoiled my hand and my lips as a hiss of pain left his lips.

"I-I'm sorry." I said watching him carefully as he brought his own hand up to run over his bruised face. He sighed shaking his head at me.

"Its okay, its nothing. It'll be gone by the weeks end." He assured me, leaning over to peck my lips lightly again before climbing out the car. I followed his lead. We went to the main building and booked a room for a few nights.

"I'm sorry." I said again when we were inside our hotel room. He was leaning against the headboard of the bed with an ice bag pressed to his cheek. I was sprawled out across the foot of the bed, as we just stared at each other.

He moved, placing the ice bag on the bedside table, before coming to hover over me. His hands were beside my head, holding himself off me as he studied my features carefully.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Steven. I did what I should've done a long time ago. And for the first time in a long time, they actually gave me more than five seconds of their time." He joked, laughing lightly.

I frowned at him, holding myself up on my elbows and forcing him to lean up a little. "That's not funny, Damien. None of this is. I'm sorry. My life was bad enough and now because of me yours is fucked up too!" I said. He pushed me back on the bed firmly. His own features becoming angry.

''No, it isn't! And never say that again,'' He let his hand gently caress my cheek. ''Steven as long as you're here with me, as long as we mean something to each other, my life isn't fucked up and it never will be.'' He leaned down and embraced me in the most passionate kiss we've ever shared.
His lips moved slowly over mine. I felt his hand snake its way under my shirt and glide over my abs. I shuddered at the sparks it emitted to me.

I hated the fact that I forgot his back was sore. He winced as I griped the side of his shoulder, pulling him closer to me. When he started to grind on me is about the moment that I think I lost a bit of my control.
The breathless pants slipped free from my lips as I arched my back, trying to get much more contact than he was giving me.

His lips left mine and started on my neck, slow tender kisses. Every where his lips touched left my skin tingling. He pulled back, causing me to open my shut eyes and look into his bright blue ones.

''I love you.'' He said, staring at me with a look that all but screamed I was the most important thing in the world to him. I felt the tears pooling in my eyes but I couldn't push them back.

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''I love you too.'' I said feeling the water run from my eyes. He kissed my tears away, sitting up and pulling me into his lap. I moved forward and kissed him sweetly on the lips. ''Can we?'' I asked when I pulled back from the kiss.

I didn't elaborate on my question but I didn't have to because I knew that he knew what I meant. I knew that he knew what I wanted. He looked so hesitant as he stared into my eyes.

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but I cut him off before he could. ''Please don't ask if I'm sure, Damien. I love you, that's all I want you to think about,'' I said wrapping my arms around his neck and laying my head on his shoulder. ''We love each other.'' I whispered to him. ''So make love to me.''

I felt his arms tighten around me. He laid me back on the bed crawling on top of me and looking into my eyes. ''Slow?" He asked cautiously. I laughed actually enjoying his momentary uncertainty. Never once in our time together like this has he offered to go slow. But I guess that was a good thing, I knew that was a good thing.

''Slow.'' I agreed as he leaned up to pull his shirt off. I admired his built muscular body. He caught my eye as I was practically drooling over him.

''Stare all you want,'' He said lifting my shirt up and over my head. ''What's mine is yours, and what's yours,'' My breath was caught in my throat and a strangled groan left my lips as he cupped me roughly in his hand. ''Is mine.'' He breathed into my ear letting his tongue trace the shell. I shuddered under his touch.

''Damien.'' I whined out as his grip got tighter. Of course it wouldn't be normal with out some teasing. But with the way he was making me feel, I don't think I can handle any teasing.

I felt my nipple being enveloped in the warmth of his mouth and I let my hands rake through his brown hair. Oh god. I ended up pulling his hair as his teeth tugged at my nipple.

I sat up slightly causing him to lean back, giving me the chance to basically jump him as he fell back on the bed and I landed on top of him. ''I love it when you get rough.'' He said smirking at me.

''I hate it when you tease me.'' I scolded him. He simply smiled at me as I undid his pants button. I slid them off and started to hook my thumbs in the waist band of his briefs but his hand caught mines.

I let my hands slowly feel down the frame of his body. The feel of his smooth warm skin beneath my fingertips had my mouth watering. I looked up to see him biting his lips. I was tempted to lean down and take his soft pink lip into my mouth.

''Let me.'' I whispered to him as I started to pull his briefs down. Before he could stop me I leaned down and licked the tip of his member, causing a hiss like groan to leave his lips.

I started to suck on the underside, feeling his fingers entwine in my hair once I licked from top to base. I looked up to see his beautiful blue eyes watching me intently as his teeth marked into his lip harshly. It was nice to know I was finally the one making him lose his cool.

I took one last lust filled look at him before enveloping him in my mouth completely. The sexy groan that left his lips had my pants becoming even more uncomfortable.

I had him on edge for the longest before I removed my mouthed completely denying him release. I leaned up and kiss him. His hand traveled down my back, groping me roughly. ''You're amazing.'' He whispered pecking my lips again. I laughed.

''With sexy breathless compliments like that, I should suck you off all the time.'' I mused. I saw his eyes glint at the thought which caused me to laugh more. He climbed atop me, reaching between me to undo my pants. I helped, slipping my briefs and pants off together as we stared into each others eyes.

''I meant it.'' He said, taking my leg and placing it to his shoulder. I felt my breathing hitch. He noticed and gave me a small smile as he entwined our fingers. ''I love you.'' I'll never get tired of hearing him tell me that. I heard a cap pop. I swear I glared at him for just a mere second and he started laughing. He knew why.

''You were just hoping you were gonna get laid, weren't you?'' I said mocking him as I smiled. I gasped as I felt the coldness at my entrance. He leaned down and let his lips hover over mine.

''Maybe.'' He whispered before kissing me. His tongue glided into my mouth moving together with mine. I felt his free hand start to slowly rub my leg that rested on his shoulder.

He made me feel sparks with just his touch. I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment between him kissing me breathless with his intoxicating lips, and his hand on my leg rubbing gently, making me harder than I already am, but the most unpleasant pain spread through me.

I gripped his hand tightly as I squeezed my eyes shut repelling the tears. This hurts like hell. He made a sound like a groan and a hiss at the same time as I moved slightly trying to find some comfort.

He didn't rush me as I took my time getting used to it. After a while the pain wasn't as bad. I opened my eyes to be greeted by sparkling blue ones. ''Okay?" He asked in a husky voice.

''Okay.'' I answered, tilting my head up. He kissed my lips. When he started to move the pain I felt before was becoming practically nonexistent. This felt incredible; he felt incredible inside me.

I adored the way I got to see his muscle flex and grow taut in his shoulders every time he would pick up speed. I loved the way he would moan out my name like it was his favorite word in the world when he came; every time he came.

It seemed as though every time I clawed at his back or tugged roughly on his hair when I felt near climax he would go faster, harder even. Just that thought made me mentally smile. Of course he likes it rough.

He decorated me beautifully. Kissing, biting and sucking at my porcelain skin. I attributed my own share of marks as he went slower, deeper. His hand started to stroke me and I wrapped my arm around his neck, pulling him closer to me. It felt so astonishing I sunk my teeth into his shoulder to keep from screaming out in pleasure.

''You mean everything to me.'' He mumbled panting when we were finally spent. I rolled over staring into his alluring eyes, he wrapped his arm around my waist pulling me into his embrace.

''How much is everything?'' I asked after a while, I was gently running my hand over his cheek, being sure not to hurt him. He smiled at me, grabbing my hand from him face and placing it on his chest.

''Everything is all.'' He answered bringing my hand up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss. I could practically feel the blush take over my face. I tried to turn away, but he captured my lips first. ''Everything.'' He told me again before kissing me deeply.
*Damien P.O.V.*
View attachment 1183940

I watched him while he slept.

To say he is beautiful wouldn't due him justice. He is lovely, stunning, gorgeous, charming, he is everything to me. I loved the way he fit perfectly in my arms; the way this all just felt so perfect.

I hated myself for what I had to do.

But knowing that I was doing it for him, so that he could survive, made me feel not so much like crap.

He's going to hate me too.

I wouldn't blame him if he did. I'd still love him. I'll always love him. But I wouldn't be able to deal with him growing to resent me. I couldn't take it. Even when doing the most selfless thing of my life, why did I still feel selfish?

Maybe because I knew it was wrong. Maybe because it was going to tear him into a million pieces and me the same. Maybe because I was ripping us from each others arms in such a cruel manner that I should be deemed a criminal.

Or maybe it was because I love him more than my own life.

I leaned down and kissed his lips lightly, making sure not to wake him. I laid the letter down on the bed. It took all the will I had to walk out of that hotel room. Every step felt like the world was shaking. I told myself not to look back once I reached the room door. But I couldn't resist.

Seeing him lay so peacefully, and knowing it would be the last time I laid eyes on him had my heart crumbling. I ran from the room, shutting the door lightly. I wasn't even two minutes from the hotel before the pain took over. I drowned myself in tears as I slumped against a tree.

''It's okay, it's-it's fine as long as it's for him. This is all for him. I love him. God, I love him.'' I whispered to myself trying to calm down.

I love him.

~

Dear Steven,

I wasn't drunk when I kissed you that night, I was barely even buzzed. I wanted to.

Steven I wanted to kiss you that night. I've wanted to kiss you ever since the first week we met. I'm sorry for lying about that.

I'm sorry for a lot of things.

The Bro-Code;

#: Never get caught.

#: Learn your lies.

#: What happens in the closet stays in the closet.

#: Never break the Bro-Code.

We failed number one. I don't regret it. Everything that has brought us closer together, I'll never regret any of it.

I'm pretty sure we fucked up number two on many occasions. But we fucked up together.

I ruined number three for us. I'm not proud of how everything played out when I told my parents. I just want you to know and understand that none of it is your fault.

Right now I'm breaking number four.

So right now I'm saying fuck the Bro-Code. It was never about the Bro-Code it's about us and I love you.

I can't apologize enough for what I've done to you, because I know my words mean nothing. They can't ever justify my actions enough for you to forgive me and I know that.

I'm sure right now your upset and your probably cursing me out in every language you know but I won't apologize for what I'm doing right now.

Yes, I'm deeply sorry for causing you the pain that's going to follow, but no Steven, I'm not sorry for leaving, because I'm doing it for reasons I can't bring myself to explain. But most importantly you should know I'm doing it for you.

I love you more than I love myself. You didn't fuck my life up Steven you made it worth living, but I can't go back home. My parents will never accept me and I know that.

But you have a chance.

And it would be so cruel of me to take that away from you. Your parents will forgive you, Steven. I know they will. They love you. I want you to tell them what they want to hear. Even if it means bashing me, I don't care. I want what's best for you.

Steven...Steven I'm not best for you. You're so perfect and I'm not worth your future. And I want you to have that future.

I love you so much baby. I must have written that a million times already but I don't care, it's true. I'll always love you, that's why I have to do this, please never forget that.

Please never forget our love.

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[StrangerDanger]

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[Zias]

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best english grades in my year
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[goat2x]

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[Deleted member 13591]

Brutal story of me and my oneitis

I had an oneitis who i stalked,imagined us together like a soyboy betabux for fucking months, i finally met her at a birthday party and after hours of simping, fucking mambling about "globalism" and other cuckshit, she called me "cute" and went home,i thought i was doing good i was happy as...

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I will heed what your words.