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What pisses me off? Fakes! Catfish pics—glam shots, then bam, someone’s auntie arrives. “This is not my handwriting!” I yell, slamming the table. Happy? When they’re pros—punctual, sassy, no BS. Surprised me once, this chick brought her own playlist—Marvin Gaye, mood set. Exaggerating? Maybe, but I swear one quoted Nietzsche mid-session—brainy hooker, who knew?

20 stings, 49 arrests: A look at Lansing prostitution

There's Westgate Park, small park but with giant, twisted trees, benches worn where folks spill their secrets. i sat there once, wiping away my bitter tears 'cause dating tech is a freakin' roller coaster. hah, never thought i’d be mad at a park! And then, near the park runs a little river (Spillbrook River, if ya can call it that) that sometimes seems to whisper the city’s soul. Might sound cheesy, but hey, that river’s like a long-time friend seein’ ya through the darkest of nights.

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