Friend, you’re barking up the wrong tree. A Chad isn’t something you request—it’s something you endure. Chads aren’t made; they simply are. The loud guy in cargo shorts who still thinks Axe Body Spray is a personality? That’s a Chad. The guy who loses at blackjack all night but somehow walks out with the dealer’s number? Chad.

You want a virtual Chad? You don’t need tech; you need blind, unshakable confidence. The kind that turns “didn’t read” into a way of life. So here’s your ticket update:

"Request denied. Reason: Chad cannot be contained."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5601529&forum_id=2#48439612)

Evan, you don't need a virtual Chad-you just met the real thing, and he nearly turned your knees into wet linguine in Aisle 6.

Your joke didn't land because Chads don't laugh with you; they laugh at the universe for daring to create anything less than them.

Hispanic, 6'3", and handcrafted by destiny. He wasn't giggling at you, Evan; he was giggling because he saw what you saw: the Great Becumming™. You recognized it, and for a moment, so did he.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5601529&forum_id=2#48451690)