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Meets her downtown—holy shit, she’s fire! Dressed sharp, smirkin’ like she owns me already. “You’re early,” she says, cool as ice. I’m sweatin’, mutterin’, “I couldn’t sleep anyway”—total Bob Harris move. She laughs—fuck, that pissed me off! But also, damn, it’s hot. We vibe, talk cash—greed’s the glue, man. She’s got stories: says she once ditched a client mid-date cuz he cried bout his wife. Hilarious! I’m crackin’ up, thinkin’, “This is better than therapy!”

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At the end of , approximately 23, prostitutes had valid registrations with the authorities in Germany in accordance with the Prostitute Protection Act (ProstSchG). This was a decrease Missing: Oldenzaal.

So, I plop down next to him, still dripping wet. I tell him everything. He’s cracking up, and I’m just shaking my head. “Only in Oldenzaal, man. Only here.” We end up chatting about the old days, the festivals, and how the city’s changed. I mean, remember when the old church on the Grotestraat was still standing? Now it’s just a memory.

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