Julia Eisenberg Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

Oh, and the lies! Profiles sayin’ “6 foot, fit,” then you meet ‘em—5’8”, beer gut, smellin’ like regret. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, if I could pick the liars out. Surprised me how bold they get—catfishin’ like it’s an Olympic sport. One time, this bloke sent me a dick pic, unasked! I’m like, “Mate, I didn’t order sausage!” Laughed my ass off, but also—eww, boundaries, ya pig!

So you want to book a sex worker?

If you want a cruiser with crazy tac oriented boff seats, there's the free mirror gargarin. If you want a manoeuvrable escort, you've got the.

Oh, and check this out: there's this shortcut down Gassenweg that only the locals know. I once ran into a surprise poetry reading there – so impromptu, so raw – it felt like a scene out of a road trip movie. "It's all a part of the journey, man!" I remember shouting, partly in awe, partly laughing in disbelief.

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