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About Limbe

So, I’m thinkin’, why not? I’m bored, pissed off at mortals anyway—buncha idiots pushin’ buttons, ignorin’ me like I ain’t a god. Findin’ a prossie sounds like a laugh, a little chaos to stir the pot. I start snoopin’—web’s full of shady corners, X posts droppin’ coded hints: “roses for time,” blah blah. Little known fact? Back in Victorian days, they called ‘em “soiled doves”—poetic, right? Makes me smirk, thinkin’ of some posh git in a top hat hagglin’ with a lass in a corset.

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Then there's the Old Town – streets like Memory Lane and Whimsy Street. These lanes are cluttered with vintage dating booths that I helped code. Every code bug and every date disaster inspired me. There, the past fuses with digital dreams. I remember one night when a bug crashed my entire dating recommendation engine. I was fuming – “There’s no romance in this technical hell!” – only to find a couple meeting by chance near the Luv River. Epic, right?

Cameroon native and Catholic convert looks forward to ‘serve the people of God’ as a priest