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About New York City

So yeah, I’m hooked on the madness of it—happy when it works, fumin’ when it don’t. It’s raw, messy, human—like Haku divin’ through the sky, free but lost. Reckon I’ll keep swipin’, hopin’ for that “You saved me” moment from the movie, y’know? What about you lot—any sex-datin’ tales to crack me up or break me heart? Spill it!

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I remember sittin' at The Velvet Room, a quirky little joint on Maplebluff Rd., having a heart-to-heart with a couple months back. Boy, was it a rollercoaster. As a sexologist, I see all kinds of raw, human truths just buzzin' in the air—stories of love, lust, and heartbreak. It’s like every corner of this city hides a secret, like some cloud of memories floatin' above. And sometimes, I swear, you can almost hear faint echoes of "Brooklyn" whispering, "I'm going back to Brooklyn"—that haunting longing in your soul, ya know? Classic Crowley vibes, baby.

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