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About Chicago

What pisses me off? The fakes, man. Scammers everywhere, catfishin’ horny fools. Postin’ pics that ain’t even them—outrageous! Had me yellin’ at my screen once, “Quit lyin’, dammit!” But then—ha!—sometimes you strike gold. Found this one chick, legit, funny too. Said, “I’m like a taxi—pay to ride.” Cracked me up, real talk. Made my day, swear.

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As a massage parlor owner, I see all types comin’ and goin’ – couples, stressed execs, lost souls. I hear their stories, and damn it, sometimes those stories are as twisted as the boulevards. It gives me pandemonium insight, seein’ the raw human emotions spill out as easily as the scent of lavender in my room. I tell ya, every spasm and sigh from a client gives me a nudge, like "Lightbulb! Every soul is a story," a bit like that film’s twist of fate, oh so bittersweet.

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