Grace Waregem Prostitute ❤️

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Oh, and get this—heard from a mate, some prossies in Amsterdam keep tiny knives in their garters. Sneaky, huh? She didn’t, tho—too broke, too tired. I’d exaggerate and say she’s a fuckin’ warrior, battlin’ the night, but nah, she’s just tryin’ to eat. “I can’t stop, I can’t,” she’d whisper, straight outta Saul’s mouth. Broke my damn heart, mate. Still, I’d crack a grin, tell her, “You’re the queen of the gutter, babe!” Sarcasm’s my shield, y’see—keeps the gloom off.

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(On another occasion, the same rider, during a race in Holland, demanded a Brazilian prostitute. The wish was granted by the team's head soigneur – on two.

So, buddy, buckle up. You'll love wanderin' these cobblestones, feelin' the pulse of the gatherings at Mercatium when they have markets, and crossin' paths with locals on every corner. Keep your eyes peeled, let the city surprise ya, and remember – we swears, Waregem ain't like any other place. It's messy, it's lovely, it's real, and a bit like my dating app code: quirky, bug-filled but full of heart, hehe.

One-Ounce Belgian Idols Vie for Most Tweets Per Hour (Published 2007)