Meant Not to Be

It seems too appropriate for I to write about how some individuals are not meant to be, just right after chatting about the courageous few men, who shoot blanks. Any who, since many are not in charge of lives they claim to own, it could be because of them not being meant to be. Some brave souls belonging to mediocre parents, have embraced awkwardness, and told it straight to their kids’ faces, that they never planned on bringing forth a tiny whiny human. It does so happen that there is a trend, in how it all happens. Without further due, let I present to you, how you may have been mistakenly made.

Starting with a not so obvious this time: Broken condom: Although I greatly encourage adults to bang a living hell out of each other whether with pride or low self-esteem, it comes as no surprise, that those who try to do it with protective rubber, could be too rough from extreme excitement, causing the rubber to rupture, tear or break: take a pick. And you my sweet dear lovely little angel, that’s how you came to be.

Slipped condom: Yeah, we all know, after about three hours of intense pounding, passion and unrhythmic noises, fate jumps in and it all comes to an end. Laziness trolls in, on the guy’s side, while for the lady, it is time for work: tightening of muscles, accompanied with amazing rhythmic waves which kick in, with a sole purpose of sucking in sperm. It thus comes as no surprise, if care isn’t taken, rubber could slip, and I have a feeling, you know how the rest of the baby story goes.

Poked holes in a condom: Seriously, what’s up with condoms – which are meant to be anti-baby first line of response? Ever wondered how you really got pregnant yet you always ensured he used a condom, or the other way around? You my dear, hold him or her down with a dead smile, and grill them to a point, where they finally get to confess, what the fuck they did with the condom, before or after use. It may have been revenge sex, and waala, there you go.

Pulling Out: Not to be repetitive, but I have a whole post about how pulling out doesn’t work. Self-control during times of extreme and intense happiness and excitement is not an easy thing. Elites of the elite, have not yet admitted to even coming close in executing it fairly. Plus, there are always some dishonorable sperms waiting to escape into friendly territory.

One night stand: Stress, love at first sight, excitement, helling with life, bucket lists, one time opportunity, and the damn fucked up list goes on, as to how individuals end up in this sweet spot, with no point of return.

Barter trade: My great foreparents were exchanged for some shiny shit, I now get to joke about it. But since the world is round, shit keeps happening, and you my sweet little angel, resulted from your mother being given some shiny shit.

Screwed Ovary: A brief story of a very sad and misfortunate couple: Oh Sweetie, I love you so much, let’s make a baby to unify us, as we annunciate our love to a rest of the world. Neglecting hospital visits due to being misfortunate, about nine months in, four babies out. Alright, let us say two: still, in this fucked up economy, you only planned for one baby, and nothing more. You are screwed.

Drunken night out: Holy shit, how in the bloody heavens had I fucken missed this? It must be due to the excitement I am feeling. In fact, I have interacted with three parents, who confessed to I, having conceived because of being drunk. Great.

Swinger’s party: Can this get any better? As in, seriously, do you want I to elaborate more? Oh, you sneaky bastard, I am no cultist, but I have a feeling, it’s time to pay for your damn fucked up sins, but hey, keep penetrating or being penetrated.

Raped: Ouch, this truly sucks: being a constant reminder of the horrible events that happened to your mother or father? Yes, men too, get raped and forced to raise the baby.