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There’s a couple that sets up a tent at their local Pride every year.
They’re not part of a private or public organization. They’re not trying to sell anything.
They are there for one reason: spreading pure, unapologetic asexual and aromantic pride.
Unofficially-slash-officially, they call themselves the “Coolest A-Specs at Pride Network” (sometimes shortened to CAPN). They have three tables arranged like a blocky C that keeps them confined to the hot tent set up on the end of one of the tent rows.
About half the space has all sorts of pamphlets and little vases full of different flags. So, so many flags, flags for almost every aromantic and asexual identity and microlabel you can think of, and if they happen to run out or not have one of the more niche ones, they’ll mail one to you, with discreet packaging if needed.
The rest of the space is filled with button-making presses and loads of pre-made button templates or paper and coloring utensils to make your own. Buttons that say things like “Hottest Ace at Pride,” “Raddest Demi at Pride,” “I Love My Aego Boyfriend,” “The only thing I’m fucking is stupid,” “Fuck Amatonormativity,” “I Love My Queer-platonic Partner,” and loads of other combinations. You could make hundreds of buttons if you wanted. If you ask how much all of this cost, especially to allow people to use it for free, the blonde, often wearing impossibly nice clothes in bright colors and an ace flag as a cape, will laugh and say, “Oh, it’s worth it.”
His partner, often in black leather, crop-tops, and shimmery purple make-up, will affectionately grumble, “Wish it didn’t take up so much space at home, though.”
Sometimes a blonde girl who wears an aro-ace flag as a cape and a pin that reads “Raddest Aro-Ace at Pride” will help out at the booth and affectionately roll her eyes at the blonde guy’s jokes. She loves to offer her advice and help people take selfies with their new loot.
The couple loves to chat with people, especially those who had walked by slowly and curiously but moved on, and then decided to come back later to take a proper look and ask shy questions that they are more than happy to answer.
One of the things that pleases them the most is when they get things like “I never knew!” and “Wait, really?”
The leather guy will often say something like, “Hell yeah, mate!! That’s why we’re here. Giving you the a-spec education no one decided to tell you. We’re just as important as every other queer identity, and anyone who tells you different—”
“Can suck eggs in hell, honestly,” the blonde guy sometimes chimes in, leading the leather guy to give him an adorably affectionate look.
“Yeah, that. Or honestly they can just go fuck themselves.”
Then there are the timid, “So I’m not actually broken?” revelations, which has caused both men to shed many a silent tear. The blonde is most likely to gently say, “Dear, of course you’re not broken. You’re valid and wonderful and should be proud of who you are.”
It should definitely be mentioned that the blonde gives incredible hugs. (And the leather guy if he's in the mood.)
Really, it’s kind of insane how comforting and warm and reassuring the hugs are, like they can imbue anyone with all the validation and compassion they’ve been missing in their life.
Of course, the men do also get a few skeptics. Not many, but there’s at least one every year. The person who smirks and goes, “This is kinda weird, man. I mean, I don’t get it. Don’t you think you’re missing out?”
The leather guy especially enjoys taking this question. He usually explains it like this, voice often dripping with disdain:
“Have you ever tried escargot?”
To which the answer is often: “Ew, those snails? Nah, that’s gross.”
The leather guy grins. “Right, that’s pretty weird, right? I mean, to each their own, but for you personally, do you ever want to try that?”
And often (though, you know, not always), the answer is: “Ugh, no.”
“And do you think you’re missing out by not trying escargot? Do you feel like your life is gonna improve if you try those slimy snails?”
By this time, the penny usually drops. “Oh. Uh, no.”
Leather guy nods. “Exactly. Sex is my escargot. I don’t give a shit about trying it and sure, other people are into it, good for them I guess, but I don’t feel like I’m missing out. I just really don’t fucking care.”
Sometimes he has to change the analogy if someone happens to enjoy escargot (which apparently his blonde partner does), but the point remains.
The blonde also likes to address the rude skeptics with passive bitchiness. They’ll entertain genuine curiosity and questions for hours, but have no time for folks who don’t bother to understand.
The guys are basically walking encyclopedias on the aromantic and asexuality spectrums. They’re quick to correct misconceptions of all types and can list loads of microlabels off the top of their heads.
For those who are new to understanding their place within the ace and aro spectrums, they love to offer reassurance. Yes, you are ace enough or aro enough. Yes, you are queer enough. Yes, you can change your mind about your identity if you find a new fit. Yes, there are people out there like you. Yes, we will always love and support you. Yes, you are accepted. Yes, you should be proud of yourself.
Sometimes folks will ask how the two met. They’ll share a fond look and bicker lovingly over who gets to tell the story.
“You see, here I was at Pride, and this blonde bombshell shows up…”
“God, it was my first Pride, and I was terrified I wouldn’t find anyone like me…”
And then they’ll say that they started this tent the very next year, wanting to help more people find the acceptance and pride they found together.
“We want to help a-spec folks connect with themselves and with each other,” the blonde will explain. “I don’t mean romantically, but just as a local support network. Honestly, sometimes even within great queer spaces things get a little too allo for me personally [“Fuckin’ mood, babe,” leather guy often mutters], so we want people to feel comfortable to talk about a-spec topics in the context of others who share that identity in some way with them. We run a discord and like to show up to as many Pride events as we can. Acceptance and awareness, that’s what we’re all about.”
“And sometimes arrogance,” leather guy sometimes chimes in jokingly.
“Darling!” the blonde might gasp. “You know that doesn’t help the cause!”
“Doesn’t stop me,” the leather guy mutters.
“Well, it is one of the many things I love about you,” the blonde concedes.
You can tell that there's a lot of love in general that goes into CAPN.
—
At the end of the event, with the help of several friends, the couple pack up their various a-spec items, their flags and buttons, their fans and homemade pamphlets, and take it back to their house.
In the privacy of their home, the couple will collapse on their couch, exhausted but deliriously happy, leaning into each other and sharing looks just as dreamy and adoring as the day they first met at Pride, with no idea that they would have the privilege of sharing the beauty of aromanticism and asexuality with so many people.
“I know I handed out a lot of ‘Hottest Ace at Pride’ buttons today,” the leather guy sometimes murmurs, stroking his partner’s blonde hair, “but you’ll always be my hottest ace at pride. And hottest ace in general.”
The blonde tends to blush and giggle, no matter how many times he’s heard this exact thing. “And you’re my hottest ace at pride and every other time of year,” he’ll reply. “As well as the funniest and sweetest and silliest and coolest and everything good. I can’t imagine another person I’d rather share this experience with.”
Often punctuated with a kiss, the leather guy will fondly say, “Here’s to another year of spreading ace and aro pride, then. The best feeling in the world.”
“The best feeling in the world.”