Gabriella Udenhout Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

So, “find a prostitute” – what’s the dealio? I’m thinkin’ it’s like investin’ in somethin’ risky, ya know? Like, you’re swipin’ through options – not Tinder, doll, I mean the streets or some shady site – and it’s all “buyer beware!” I’m gettin’ mad just thinkin’ bout it – these gals, they’re out there, hustlin’, and some jerk’s probly skimmin’ their cash. Ugh, makes my blood boil! But then, I’m like, “Oh, honey, you’re so naive,” – straight from “Her,” that line kills me – ‘cause it’s true, I’m sittin’ here judgin’ when I don’t even know the half of it.

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Then I hit up the local market on the Markt. Man, the smell of fresh stroopwafels hit me like a freight train. I had to get one. Or two. Okay, maybe three. Don’t judge! They were calling my name. I’m standing there, stuffing my face, when I see this old lady, Mrs. van Dijk, trying to haggle over some flowers. She’s like, “I’ll give you two euros for those tulips!” The vendor’s like, “Lady, they’re ten!” And she’s all, “But they’re wilted!” I’m dying laughing. Udenhout’s got character, for real.

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