My Comic Con deflowering was not the misadventure I hoped it would be. I spent the entire time behind a booth, peddling zombie books by a certain filmmaker/comedian/actor’s son (guess who I work for). I missed the jousting, the panels on the feasibility of Batman existing IRL. I missed the speed dating (so I’m still single and lonely). Below I provide glimpses into adult Halloween, where delusion is (more than) a costume you wear as second skin and candy is JJ Abrams’s used napkin.


In college these two were forced to attend class in costumes during pledge week. They really enjoyed it. Now, as Arthur and The Tick, they’re using their bodies to “comedic effect,” hoping you’ll find humor in sagging bellies and spandex-hugged junk. In the comic, Arthur is just a portly accountant looking to be a hero. In reality, he’s just a portly accountant looking for social validation in a community steeped in denial and an aversion to treadmills.


So what if there’s a little camel toe here? She’s fit and far less skanky than half the twenty-somethings there. She’ll never judge your secret love of leotards or ask you to choose between body paint and her, and her best friend’s hair looks like a superhero unto itself. Yes, this is your next girlfriend.


There is nothing funny about this photo. It makes me feel very alone.


What a nice looking young man. In a sea of pasty, untoned flesh spilling over waistbands, this kid opts for the Doctor Who look: bow tie, pressed shirt (tucked in, I might add), slacks. He did all of his homework the night before, and was home in time to help his mother set the table for dinner.


The couple that cosplays together, stays together. Though the Javits Center was littered with these “Boba families,” it’s nice to see a rogue husband and wife. With matching breastplates snapped into place like they just got a commission from the emperor, they’re ready to rocket-boost to the second-floor concession stand to pay $7.00 for Dippin’ Dots.

Of course, this is not a complete catalogue of the convention’s nerd menagerie. Next year look for a guide to Comic Con facial hair. It will be disgusting.

Rebecca Bates

Rebecca Bates is a senior editor at Sweet on Snapchat Discover and has written about culture, art, and books for Vice, The Paris Review Daily, Guernica, The New Inquiry, NYLON, and elsewhere. She also coedits Powder Keg, a quarterly poetry magazine.

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