I Got A Girl Pregnant

This is not what I meant when I said I wanted to become a daddy.

OK, ladies, buckle up because this one is a scandalous post. Only my bank account God knows how much alcohol I’ve drunk over this one. Hint: A fuckload.

It all started a few months into my new job. As you might remember, I was once in the cosmetics industry, in charge of destroying young women’s self-esteem telling women how much more confident they could be with the right eyeliner.

Spoiler alert: They are not, but their insecurities paid my bonus, so by all means, carry on.

Now I am in the business of telling women how no one will touch them to feel beautiful inside and outside… by moisturizing, specifically.

Anyway, since I wanted to embrace the company’s culture, I set out to get the receipts on every bitch there become the best colleague anyone has ever had, and that included listening to their problems. I’m such a people’s person, I know. This is how I ended up listening to one of my teammate’s dating life and her stupidity naivety when it came to dating apps.

Being from the Third World, she was delusional was a hardcore Catholic and had all of these erroneous expectations on what a man and dating should be. She’s basically waiting for Prince Charming, but she ain’t no Disney princess, so she needed an intervention, which I was all too happy to lead.

I presented myself as a dating app consultant and gave her a crash course on all the important topics, such as:

  • What is a fuckboy and how to recognize them
  • In-depth profile analysis and what their profile pic means
  • Nudes: how to take them, when to send them, and what to expect
  • First Date Dos and Don’ts
  • Detailed roadmap of first 5 dates including handies, blowies, and anal

I do not want to boast about my services here, but I was basically saving her life, and for free! I was not just a consultant, I was her Fairy Godmother.

I encouraged her to open her legs her mind to new experiences and set herself free from that 12th century idea of only having missionary sex with your husband for procreation purposes. As I often like to say, ‘Less morals, more oral’, and, boy, did she listen!

Three months later, I arrived to the office and the following conversation happened:

Me: Hey, what’s up?
Her: I’m having the worst day of my life!
Me, an adult with the emotional intelligence of a 16 year old: You’re pregnant.
Her: Yes.
Me, totally not expecting that answer: Wait, what?
Her: Do you remember how you were saying that I should live my life to the fullest and that sex didn’t necessarily have to lead to marriage?
Me: Yes…?
Her: Well, I slept with three guys over the weekend and I haven’t gotten my period since.
Me: So what’s the plan?
Her: I spent the last two days praying for a miscarriage.

Whoa, there is a lot to unpack here.

After nearly choking on my green tea, I went on full emergency mode and asked her the most sensible questions, like:

– Are you fucking stupid?
– Do you not know what a condom is?
– Seriously, are you stupid?
– Do you want me to push you down the stairs?
– Also, how did you do this? I’m asking for a friend.

How did she go from being a devote Catholic to the biggest whore in Montreal? I need explanations – and advice because clearly she is living the life I wish I had! Of course the worst mistake was her blocking all the guys right after she fucked them so that baby would not even have a baby daddy. She didn’t even know who the baby’s father was!

On the plus side, we would have made some good money appearing on Jerry Springer and asking for the DNA test. That’s good TV right there.

That being said, this outcome is not representative of my consulting services, so please reach out to me if you’re feeling like spicing up your life.

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