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Here’s a lil’ factoid—didja know back in the old days, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret codes? Like, a red ribbon meant “I’m free,” but two ribbons? “Bring a buddy!” Wild, huh? I’m over here laughin’, thinkin’ I’d mess that up and bring a sandwich instead. Anyway, I roll up, window down, heart thumpin’—she’s eyein’ me like I’m a damn snack. “What you want, sugar?” she says, all smoky. I’m sweatin’ like a pig in a bacon factory, thinkin’, “Man, this is it!”

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And oh my gosh, I gotta mention the annual Fest of Love at Marienplatz. They got livin’ music, steamy local tales, and yes, even a few scandalous whispers that’d make ya blush. I once got so mad at a local politician spoutin’ crap ‘bout love being simple – honey, love’s as messy as a Lynch film and as dope as Madea’s sass!

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