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Me? I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t freak me out once. Some shady parlor, guy’s hands too close to—y’know. Nearly bolted, screamin’, “This ain’t happenin’!” But when it’s good? Holy flux capacitor, pure bliss! Muscles melt, stress gone, like Mia dancin’ free. “I’m not scared,” she’d whisper—same feelin’ here. Tho, gotta say, some masseuses? Overdo the “happy ending” bit—lame! Ruins the art, pisses me off.

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Then, I bump into my mate, Tom, who’s just come back from a trip. He’s all hyped up about some fancy restaurant he went to in London. I’m like, “Dude, we’ve got The Seahorse right here!” He rolls his eyes, but I’m serious. Dartmouth’s got some killer food spots. We end up chatting about the best fish and chips in town. Spoiler: it’s at The Flavel. Trust me.

Reflection: With a Little Help From My Friends