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So, escort’s basically datin’ without the mess—u get paid to charm, sip wine, look fly. Not gonna lie, I dig the hustle. Some dude in Vegas once hired an escort just to flex at a poker table—true story! Made me laugh, like, “Bro, really?” But it’s not all glitz—gets dark sometimes. Lonely rich folks, awkward silences, fake smiles. Kinda pisses me off how some treat ‘em like robots, not humans. “I don’t understand anything anymore,” like the teacher says in the movie—sums up the gig’s weirdness.

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I can’t lie; sometimes I get mad at the noise on Sycamore Lane – yeah, that street gets wild, too much drama sometimes. But then, there’s a spot on Oak Bend that makes me smile – a serene overlook where the whole city unfolds like a movie scene. “The Word of the woman is truth,” I think, taking in the landscape as dusk falls. It’s like every sunset here writes a poem in the sky.

How an antiquing find triggered a Hazmat response in Bexley