I'm what you would call a Sigma male, no cap, just facts.

I got my style on lock.

I'm buttery with the ladies.

My boys want to be me and my vibes always pass the check.

Hell, I was so Sigma that my dad never bothered coming back with milk.

He knew he couldn't stand beside an alpha male like me, so why bother?

It's cool, though, because my mom is the best, and the bands I make from my zine cast on

the Manosphere keeps us comf-A-F. I mean, she's got an O-F, but she only sells feetpicks, so it's classy.

So when this rand-o, this Rizzless Chud, DMs me on snap and tells me that

my vibes are stale, but he can fix me, I scoff into my Stanley. This beta wants to Charleston

with a segment like me for real, for real? Nah, I'd win. This baldhead says to meet him on Ohio

Boulevard at midnight, and that he

can take my game to the next level. He's cap'n, for real, for real, but could he be dead-ass?

A true Sigma is always evolving, peaking game, studying vibes, so I owed it to myself to check

his vibes in person. His profile picked looked weak, some chub

who probably doesn't even edge. And I wasn't sweating him. I had time so I got about my

morning routine of mewing, gooning, and generally posting my workout on Insta. As an influencer,

it's important for people to know when I'm maxing. They need that kind of positivity

in their lives if they're ever going to be on my level. I had a feastable for lunch, got

to support the OGs, and put a feastable bar in my pocket for later. I decided to go live

and play a modest eight hours of Roblox for the fans. But when I looked down, I realized I had

almost missed my yapsesh

...