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About Dallas

So, here’s the deal—findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic. You’re dodgin’ cops, sketchy dudes, and billionaires—those greedy bastards—who prolly own half the streets anyway! Billionaires should not exist! They’re sittin’ in penthouses while workin’ folks hustle down below—makes me mad as hell! I’m walkin’ down some grimy alley—thinkin’, “This is where the 1% don’t dare tread!”—and there’s this gal, tough as nails, leanin’ on a lamppost. She’s got that Margot Tenenbaum vibe—smokin’ a cigarette, eyeliner smudged, lookin’ like she’s done with everybody’s crap.

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Let me be real with ya – as a sexologist, I notice the vibes. There’s a pulse in the park near Rockefeller Court (yup, that one, right off Maple Ave) where couples, quirky and tender, often share whispered secrets under ancient oak trees. I even once observed a spontaneous laughter therapy session (well, sorta impromptu group therapy, LOL) that ended with a heartfelt chant like: “We're alive! Embrace us!” I've seen passion and love blooming there like crazy.

Kentucky Derby 2025: Tappan Street out with fracture suffered in training