Everything's Archie

A few nights ago, I awoke from a sound sleep plagued by visions of Archie. If you have had similar nightmares, my apologies. If you have no prior knowledge of Archie Andrews and his pals, you have my everlasting envy.
There was a time when Archie comics filled a void in my life. After Superman and his DC Justice League friends and before Spiderman and the folks at the Merry Marching Society of Marvel comics. My entreaty to the world of boy-girl relationships occurred during this phase of my young life. It helped Archie's cause that he had a Saturday morning cartoon show and a hit single to cement their place in my pop culture firmament, but I was always left with a sense of ennui as I watched the gang from Riverdale High negotiate their adolescent courtships.
Much in the same way that I was troubled by Charlie Brown's obsession with that little red-headed girl while Peppermint Patty stood by waiting for the tiniest sign from lovestruck Chuck, I never understood why Archie was so devoted to Veronica. Why couldn't he see that Betty was always the one for him, as she waited for him with patience and devotion. And a little bit of venomous jealousy.
In my mind, it worked out so neatly: Reggie belonged with Veronica, Jughead had his Big Ethel, and Archie was destined to be with Betty. All of the machinations and torment experienced by these proto-teens were useless in the face of the color-coded destiny. Reggie and Veronica had black hair, and in lieu of another orange-haired character, Archie should pair up with a complimentary blond. It really was just that neat in my mind. But instead, there was a monthly scheme to gain Veronica's affections, while the rest of the crew watched in morbid fascination. When will he learn? It may have been that Archie's over-developed frontal lobes didn't allow him to see his obvious course, or was that just his hair-style?
I didn't stick around to see how it turned out. I was soon back to the super-heroes, this time with an emphasis on character rather than feats of derring-do. I settled into a nice comfortable world where Peter Parker pined for his high school sweetheart, Gwen Stacy. His choice was primarily one of great responsibility conflicting with those more primitive urges. And that's when Mary Jane Watson showed up. I began to despair again, until the Amazing editors at Spiderman dropped Gwen from the George Washington Bridge. Problem solved, right?
Maybe somebody should have dropped Veronica from the overpass in Riverdale.