Riverdale – This show is a shitty goddamn waste of time


TAMBIIIN DONN LIKE IIT! / FUCK THE ARCHIE! / FUCK THE ARCHIE! That’s right folks, Tambin straight up almost broke up with me when I suggested we watch an episode of Riverdale together. She usually only lets us watch films by Studio Ghibli or Wes Anderson when she gets tired of rewatching Stranger Things – but I put my foot down for my 15 year old HOTTIES in Riverdale. She reluctantly gave it a try but ended up spitting directly in my face when Archie sang his ‘song’ early on in this episode. And honestly I didn’t blame her whatsoever (Grundy, come thru with these music lessons ASAP). Feeling demoralized and emasculated I was ready to relinquish the Netflix reigns back to Tambin when she realized Cole Sprouse was on this show and agreed to continue watching, albeit ironically. I love her so much.

This episode deals primarily with the themes of disassociation. Each of our main characters struggles to live within of the archetypes defined for them in the pilot episode.

I had the above written out planning to release in line with the show but then then I fell victim to the most challenging trials of hellfire life had ever thrown my way. I had to stop watching Riverdale.

Tambin was happy to ironically hate watch with me right up until the hot tub scene. That was the watershed moment not only in our relationship, but my life as a whole. If you’re not familiar with the particulars of said scene, go to your computer, enter the password, open the browser of your choice, go to netflix.com, enter your username and password, select the appropriate user account, navigate to the search menu, type in R-I-V- Riverdale should be the first result, select it, go to episodes, select episode 3, and see for yourself. Rehashing the details would be to relive the single worst moment of my life.

As you may have noticed, I’ve been absent for some time. I promise to detail exactly what I went through during that time, but for now the wound is simply too fresh. Not even TM has been able to lift me from these trying circumstances.

For now though, I will tell you how the whole process began.

As we lay watching the third episode of my former favorite show, Tambin’s armpit hair playfully tickling my shoulder blade (she says I’m “not a feminist” if I don’t enjoy it.) Cherry Glazerr playing softly from her Crosly across the room. This particular episode has chosen to tackle slut-shaming. This piques Tambin’s interest. She loves poking holes in theories of those she is ideologically aligned.

The how, when and why are unimportant, all that matters is that the slut-shamer ended up handcuffed in a hot tub with maple syrup on his head. Tambin became flush, I could see her nipples harden through her shirt (she never wears a bra). She had never been more turned on. She grabbed me by the testicles.

“Do you love me?” she said through clenched teeth.

“More than anything in this world my She Goddess, Killer of Man.” (cute pet name she makes me use)

“And you want me to get off don’t you?”

“That is the highest purpose I can serve on this earth”.

It is not uncommon for me to deliver cunnilingus, unreciprocated, for upwards of 90 minutes.

She led me to the kitchen, balls still firmly clenched. She sat me down and slid a blindfold over my eyes. Any excitement I felt quickly dissipated when I felt my hands slide behind my back and into handcuffs. The terror of what was in my near future hit me. I stood and screamed in protest. She twisted my balls, hard.

“What happened to your higher purpsose? Huh? I thought you wanted me to get off?”

“I do! I do! I’ll go down on you for 2 – 3 hours, that’s fine but please… this is humiliating.”

She slid down my blindfold, I saw that she was boiling water, and was on the verge of tears.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” I said.

“You KNOW how important consent is to me, how can you say something like that to me?! You have no idea what it’s like to be a woman”

I had heard enough. There was but one thing I could do to save our relationship. I walked over to the stove, both pots were lively with steam filled bubbles. I took both pots and placed them on the ground. I could heard Tambin’s breath quicken. She knew what was coming.

I walked to the fridge. I took out the jug of maple syrup. A calm came over me and with a stoic face I turned to face Tambin. She was practically liquid in her chair. In one swift moment, I stepped with both feet into the boiling water, simultaneously pouring the syrup on my head.

She grabbed the table for support as pure ecstasy coursed through her every bone. We both screamed, her in orgasmic bliss, me in flesh-searing agony. This was the closest we’d ever come to climaxing in unison.

More on the journey this seemingly innocuous event would spur. oh and it is most definitely



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