The Snark on Alchemy Podcast "Love Unscripted | Fix It or Forget It"
- The Snark
- 1 day ago
- 7 min read
Welcome to the Chaos, or How Tim and LeeAnna Turned Relationship Advice Into a (Somewhat) Entertaining Podcast
Ah, Alchemy. Where life, love, and creative writing are somehow always paired with the bizarre. This week, Tim and LeeAnna tackle the lofty topic of “Bids for Connection and Repair Attempts” – a fancy way of saying, “How Not to Screw Up Your Relationship, If You Can Help It.” And, true to form, they manage to blend some advice, a little marriage therapy, and a heaping helping of awkwardness.
Now, before we dive into the meat of this emotional rollercoaster, let’s talk about LeeAnna's contribution to the podcast atmosphere. Sure, she could’ve come in with the usual cup of coffee, or, I don’t know, the solemn air of someone ready to engage in life-altering conversation. But no. She broke with podcast tradition and brought a cheeseburger. Not just any cheeseburger, mind you - she was eating only the meat, like some high-protein zealot who’s secretly trying to be the next Instagram fitness guru. Except, of course, she ate most of the bun because, in LeeAnna’s world, mustard is a necessary life choice. Sure. Why not?
Bids for Connection: Because Apparently, Telling Your Partner "I Had a Bad Day" Is a Form of Romance
With that lovely mental image firmly planted in your mind, Tim finally gets around to explaining today’s topic. Bids for connection: What is that, exactly? Well, according to Tim (and the emotionally battered people of the world), a “bid” is just a small gesture - a little cry for help, really - like, “Look at this cute dog,” or, “What do you want for dinner?” It’s the attempt to feel connected to another human being, and yes, Tim claims this can be romantic.
Tim asserts these “bids” are often bizarre but still totally valid. As an example, he offers, “Would you still love me if I turned into a giant worm?” Translation: Please reassure me that I’m still lovable, even when I’m completely insane. Ah yes, love at its most vulnerable and totally not weird.
Then there’s the “Will you still love me when I’m old?” question. LeeAnna’s caution here is understandable - because if she asks that, she might get an answer she doesn’t want to hear. (Spoiler: That’s why it’s a terrible question, LeeAnna. You’ve been warned.)
For Tim, these “bids” are basically a way of life. For example, “Look at that cat that looks like it pays taxes.” Translation: Laugh with me, notice my random thoughts, and be weird with me. Perfect.
Repair Attempts: Because Who Needs to Have a Healthy Argument When You Can Just Make It Worse for Your Characters?
But wait, we’re not done! Tim promises us that things are going to get dark - and not in the way you might hope. No, no, no. He takes us straight into the deep end of relationship conflict, where we all play the dangerous game of Repair Attempts (aka, throwing emotional spaghetti at the wall and hoping something sticks).
Imagine, if you will, you’re in a full-blown argument with your significant other. Things are escalating - voices are rising, stares are getting sharper. You’re on the verge of declaring an actual blood feud over who’s turn it is to buy the cat litter. What do you do? Well, according to Tim, you attempt a repair - quick, before you both say something you can’t take back. Maybe a joke. Maybe a “Let me make you a drink” gesture. Tim swears the best weapons you have to save your doomed relationship, and honestly, I’m not sold, but hey, it’s a good one-liner for the next date.
How to “Fix” Everything and Still End Up Screwing It Up
Tim spends a solid chunk of time explaining how to fix your relationship with the “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse” (yes, we’re still on that). Apparently, if you’ve got the criticism, defensiveness, contempt, and stonewalling issues, you’re basically doomed. But - fear not! Tim solutions: Antidotes. Need to repair criticism? Start with a gentle request. Stonewalling? Take a breath and self-soothe. (Because apparently, self-soothing is what fixes 90% of relationship problems in the Timverse.)
In Tim’s words, writing the moments where someone tries to save a fight - even if they fail - is what makes the story real. And as for all those times someone just shuts down, chooses silence over confrontation - well, that’s the juicy part. It’s power in a mask, and if you’re not writing that, you’re missing out.
Then we get to the more fun part: “Whataboutism.” What’s that, you ask? Oh, it’s that move where you deflect blame for your problems by bringing up an ancient wrong your partner committed. Tim’s keen on showing us that this is a fabulous writing tool…if your goal is to start an even bigger fight between your characters.
The Dramatic Readings
Of course, we have a dramatic reading with the fictional Alice and James – LeeAnna wonders which is the more sensitive of the two. There are some lovely moments (this is an extract):
James: "If we both get reincarnated as peaches, promise you’ll find me?"
Alice: (carefully) "Peaches?”
James: "Yeah. You’ll probably be a prize-winning peach. I’ll be half-bruised already. Just... don’t pick a different peach, okay?"
Alice: (softly) "Okay. I’ll find you. Even if you’re the saddest, ugliest little peach in the whole orchard." (whispering) "I'd know you anywhere."
Generously, Tim & LeeAnna take a moment to mock James and his depressed peach reincarnation. And then they move to a few less lovely moments (another extract):
James: (quiet) "You don’t get to say things like that and then act like they didn’t land."
Alice: "I know. I’m not asking you to forget it. I just... I see you. Even when I mess up."
James: "Sure."
Alice: "I mean it."
James: "Yeah, well, saying sorry after you land the punch doesn’t make it hurt less."
Alice: "I said it was mean. What more do you want?"
James: "I want you to stop doing it."
Alice: "You think I just go around waiting to hurt you?" James: "I think you don’t stop yourself. And then you clean it up after, like that makes it okay."
Alice: "Right. Because you never say anything shitty when you’re pissed."
Wump; but how about this one!
James: (sarcastic) "Great. I’ll be sure to add 'lazy disappointment' to my LinkedIn bio. That’ll really round out the skills section."
Alice: "You know what? This is rich coming from the guy who left me alone at that wedding with your ex and didn’t even notice she was drunk-crying in the bathroom about you for twenty minutes.
James: "That was two years ago. And you said it was fine!"
Alice: "I said it was fine because I didn’t want to be that girl causing a scene at your friend’s wedding. But yeah, sure, let’s talk about dishwashers. That feels more important."
James: (laughing bitterly) "Oh, I get it now. This isn’t about dishes. This is about weaponized resentment and a time machine."
Alice: "Or maybe it’s about patterns. You don’t see them. I live with them."
Thank you, O Gods of dialogue!
The Optimist’s View vs. The Pessimist’s View: What’s Really At Stake?
Tim promised us a dark path, and boy, did he deliver. Sure, we can all write about the easy reconciliations - romantic makeups, tearful apologies, perfect closure. But that’s not where the meat of human relationships lies, is it?
So, what’s at stake when your characters are trying to fix things? Here’s where things get juicy. The optimist’s view is that relationships are about more than just winning a fight - they’re about winning the relationship. You know, the heartwarming stuff. You want your characters to grow, find common ground, and build something beautiful after the storm.
But the pessimist? Tim’ll tell you it’s not about love or peace at all. It’s about power. Who controls the narrative? Who gets to decide the rules? Who’s the one that calls the shots when the dust settles? In some relationships, winning isn’t about being right - it’s about making the other person learn to live with your way. That’s the real prize. And, spoiler alert: that’s not healthy.
Take James and Alice. Say he stays out drinking with friends and stumbles in late, while Alice has silently absorbed the emotional toll of his neglect. She doesn’t raise objections anymore, because what’s the point? It’s easier to keep the peace, right? Wrong. What’s really happening here is that the relationship has become a power struggle disguised as calm. Alice isn’t winning peace - she’s losing herself, quietly. And when someone stops fighting just to avoid another cold argument, that's not reconciliation - that’s power imbalance in a mask.
The "Silent Winner": The Danger of Emotional Manipulation
Tim’s therapist once asked, “Who’s the winner here? What’s the prize?” And that question is a doozy. Because sometimes, the prize isn’t love. It’s control. Think about it. Some people don’t care about “winning” in the traditional sense - they care about getting what they want, no matter the cost to the other person. If you’re a writer, this is prime real estate for drama. You don’t need a dramatic fight for a relationship to implode. Sometimes, it’s the quiet, insidious weaponizing of silence. It’s about someone getting their way through emotional manipulation, bending the relationship dynamic to serve their needs.
Imagine this: Alice, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching James as he plays video games, completely ignoring her again. She’s not angry anymore. She’s just... silent. But that silence speaks volumes. It’s the kind of silence that comes from emotional exhaustion, when you’ve said all you can, and now you’re just waiting for the storm to pass.
And then James, not noticing the weight of her silence, goes on with his day. And in that moment, you realize something horrible - this silence isn’t just peaceful. It’s a weapon. It’s the quiet refusal to engage, a form of control wrapped in passivity. And that’s where things get really dark. This isn’t reconciliation. This is emotional erosion. The silence is much, much more than just silence.
Write the Mess, Write the Dark
So here’s the deal, dear listeners: Tim and LeeAnna spent an entire podcast dissecting the emotional minefield of relationships, and in the end, they gave us the tools to screw things up even more gracefully. What can writers take away from this? Simple. Don’t shy away from the dark stuff. Don’t just write about the perfect fight and the perfect apology. Write the stuff that’s messy, that’s hard to watch. Show the failed bids for connection. Show the repair attempts that go nowhere. Write the moments that make us uncomfortable, the bits where people try but still fail to connect. Because that’s where the story really lives.
And if you ever need a quick fix for your fictional relationships, remember: A well-placed joke and a side of emotional duct tape might just be all it takes. Just don’t ask your partner, "Do I look fat in this?" You’re not ready for the truth.
The Snark
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