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About London

But here’s the thing—*Talk to Her* vibes hit me hard. That line, “The best thing is to wait,” pops up, and I’m like, wait for what? Love? A discount? I’m pacin’, neurotic as hell, thinkin’—is this moral? Immoral? Who cares! I’m not hurtin’ nobody, right? Still, my brain’s yellin’, “Larry, you idiot, don’t do it!” But then—surprise, surprise—I’m curious. What’s she like? Does she talk? Does she laugh at my dumb jokes? I’d probably overthink it, ruin the whole thing. “So, uh, ya like Seinfeld?” Crickets.

Sex Tourism Practices on the Periphery: Eroticizing Ethnicity and Pathologizing Sex on the Lancang

So, I finally get my coffee, and I’m feeling good. I step outside, and boom! It starts pouring. Typical Hyde, right? One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s like the sky’s having a meltdown. I’m dodging puddles on Ashton Road, trying not to look like a drowned rat. I swear, I must’ve looked ridiculous.

Tragic Cork man who drowned in river Lee had troubles but always helped others