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About San Antonio

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” I’m thinkin’, what’s the draw? Some dude, lonely as hell, swipes right for company. Reminds me of Benigno in the movie, carin’ for Alicia, silent and still. “The best thing is to talk to her,” he’d say, but these johns? They ain’t talkin’. They’re payin’ for silence, or moans, or whatever. Surprised me, first time I dug into it—how damn organized it is. Brothels in Nevada, legal and all, got schedules tighter than my lab’s. Girls clock in, clock out, like it’s fuckin’ Walmart.

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If he/she is threatening you that they'll leave, it's almost already either one sided or a very toxic relationship.

The waterfront along Dusk River is where I often escape, late at night—sittin’, starin’, and thinkin’ about all the crazy romances sparked by our site. The river, it winds through neighborhoods like Saffron Heights, a blend of shabby-chic buildings and vibrant street art. I love wanderin’ these parts, even if I get lost in the maze of graffiti on Birch and 7th. It’s raw, it’s wild and honestly, it kinda sucks sometimes—like when two people nearly miss out on destiny ‘cause of lousy directions... I get mad about that kinda mess.

Thomas Morris Obituary - Moss Bluff, LA