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About Ghent

So, I’m picturin’ it—me, cashin’ out some perv buyin’ condoms at 2 a.m., and I’m like, “Mate, you’re off to find a prostitute, ain’t ya?” He’d probly blush, but I’d just grin. Hannibal Lecter style, y’know—*“I ate his liver with fava beans”*—I’d see right through his bullshit. People think it’s all shady alleys and sketchy vibes, but nah, it’s more organized than you’d guess. Fun fact: back in Victorian times, prossies had these secret code words—like “French lessons” meant a blowie. Sneaky, right? Bet Gustave woulda loved that.

Don't forget

Find a prostitute, Blowjob without Condom to Completion, Deep Throat, Striptease/Lapdance, Deep Throat.

Confidence and chaos swirl around me here, man. I mean, sometimes, while I'm meditating or working on positive vibes, some memories rush in, erratic like a roller coaster: typos, stammers, heart racing, OMG... I've had better days! I get so wrapped up in that feeling that my mind scribbles crazy thoughts like "LOOOL, fckin' beauty!" even as I try to remain chill.

People think 'impossible' goal from Belgian fourth tier deserves to win the Puskas Award