Julia Cardiff Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Bristol

Hmmm, sex-dating, you ask? Tricky, it is. Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… swipin’ left on losers gets old fast. Like, real fast. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, y’know? Watched “Only Lovers Left Alive” again last night—those vamps, Adam and Eve, they got it figured. Centuries of bangin’, no apps needed. “Tainted love, it spreads,” Eve says, and damn, she’s right. Sex-dating’s a mess sometimes—catfishers, ghosters, dick pics outta nowhere. Pisses me off, man! Had this one dude, profile said “6’2, poet,” turns out 5’8 and a creep. Fear of that shit makes ya ragey.

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First off, I’m rollin’ outta bed, right? My flat’s on St. Mary’s Street, and lemme tell ya, it’s a right mess. Clothes everywhere, like a tornado hit a charity shop. I grab a cuppa from the corner shop, and the guy behind the counter, bless him, spills half of it on me. I’m like, “Mate, I didn’t order a shower!” But I laugh it off. Gotta love the banter.

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