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About Bordeaux

Here’s a quirky bit—drove me mad once. This gal on a sex-date, mid-shag, starts hummin’ ABBA. “Dancing Queen,” mid-thrust! I’m like, “Luv, this ain’t karaoke!” Laughed my arse off later, tho. Another time, matched with a chick who only texted in code—legit spy shit. Took me ages to crack “wanna bone?”—happy as a pig in mud when I did.

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Finally, I get my stuff and head back home. But wait! I see a street performer on Rue de la Gare. He’s juggling and singing, and honestly, he’s pretty good. I stop to watch, and for a moment, I forget about my bad day. I even toss him a euro. He winks at me, and I’m like, “Yeah, I’m a big spender.”

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