VitoScaletta
🖤Life Should Be Fill With Fun An Chaos💕
- Joined
- Dec 29, 2023
- Posts
- 56
- Reputation
- 37
Let me start there, because every time I hear some dude say, “Bro, I got her pregnant on accident,” I immediately know the level of incompetence we’re dealing with. Like, what the hell does “accident” even mean here? You’re telling me you just accidentally handled the most serious adult responsibility like a blindfolded toddler? Please.
Imagine saying, “Oh, how did you get those gains?” and I reply, “Bro, I got them on accident.” Yeah, right. No. That’s not how life works. You don’t accidentally create life, you either plan it or you fail at basic self-control. No excuses, no “accidents.”
Look, if you’re the kind of guy who’s out here dropping babies like it’s a game of dodgeball, you’re not just unprepared—you’re a walking disaster, a cautionary tale wrapped in bad decisions and even worse genetics.
Meanwhile, the real ones? The guys who look like they walked off a runway, who command attention without saying a word, who don’t just attract women—they magnetize them with precision? We’re not dropping accidents, we’re making moves. Calculated. Controlled. Masterful.
And here’s the kicker: those “accident” stories are just lame cover-ups for weakness. You’re telling me you can’t keep your shit together enough to handle your own body? Or your own future? Pathetic.
You want to talk about getting a girl pregnant? How about you learn how to look like a man who could be responsible for life if he wanted to. But you’re so far above that mess, you don’t even entertain that level of chaos. Because true power? It’s in control. Elegance. Knowing your worth and acting accordingly.
So to all those “oops, I got her pregnant” guys: Stop embarrassing yourselves. Stop acting like it’s some tragic accident. Own your failures, learn the game, and maybe—just maybe—try looking like a man who doesn’t live in chaos.
Because trust me, nobody respects the guy who stumbles into fatherhood like it’s a mistake. Don’t fuck up you no having low class peasant peace an luv
Imagine saying, “Oh, how did you get those gains?” and I reply, “Bro, I got them on accident.” Yeah, right. No. That’s not how life works. You don’t accidentally create life, you either plan it or you fail at basic self-control. No excuses, no “accidents.”
Look, if you’re the kind of guy who’s out here dropping babies like it’s a game of dodgeball, you’re not just unprepared—you’re a walking disaster, a cautionary tale wrapped in bad decisions and even worse genetics.
Meanwhile, the real ones? The guys who look like they walked off a runway, who command attention without saying a word, who don’t just attract women—they magnetize them with precision? We’re not dropping accidents, we’re making moves. Calculated. Controlled. Masterful.
And here’s the kicker: those “accident” stories are just lame cover-ups for weakness. You’re telling me you can’t keep your shit together enough to handle your own body? Or your own future? Pathetic.
You want to talk about getting a girl pregnant? How about you learn how to look like a man who could be responsible for life if he wanted to. But you’re so far above that mess, you don’t even entertain that level of chaos. Because true power? It’s in control. Elegance. Knowing your worth and acting accordingly.
So to all those “oops, I got her pregnant” guys: Stop embarrassing yourselves. Stop acting like it’s some tragic accident. Own your failures, learn the game, and maybe—just maybe—try looking like a man who doesn’t live in chaos.
Because trust me, nobody respects the guy who stumbles into fatherhood like it’s a mistake. Don’t fuck up you no having low class peasant peace an luv
then use a condom dam all these excuses but but but but
