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I tried it once, swear to Christ. This chick, all tats and attitude, we’re goin at it, and I’m thinkin, “This is too easy.” Made me happy as a pig in shit, but then—bam—she ghosts me. Fuckin pissed me off! Left me hangin like, "Remember Sammy Jankis!"—y’know, that poor bastard from Memento who can’t figure shit out? That’s me, tryna decode these broads. You ever hear bout the “three-date rule”? Total bullshit—sex-dating laughs at that. Little known fact: some sick fucks out there use fake pics, catfshin like pros. Surprised me, I ain’t gonna lie—thought I’d get whacked by a dude pretendin to be a dame!

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First off, I hit up the local café on the corner of Church Street. You know the one? The one with the dodgy Wi-Fi? Yeah, that’s the one. I ordered a latte, and the barista, bless her, totally messed it up. I mean, how do you even mess up a latte? It was like drinking hot milk with a hint of regret. I was like, “C’mon, mate, I need caffeine, not a dairy disaster!”

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