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About Turin

Numbers don’t lie—70% hookups, no love. Tinder’s a meat market, stinks of desperation. Met this chick once, profile said “fun only.” Next day, clingy texts—fucking liar! Made me mad, wasted my time. “I’m done with this crap,” I growled, vodka in hand. Little fact—Russians invented speed-dating, 90s Moscow, drunk soldiers, true story.

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After I grab the glass, I’m walking down Via Cavour, and I see this old lady struggling with her groceries. I’m like, “Hey, let me help ya!” She’s super grateful, and I’m feelin’ all warm and fuzzy inside. But then, she starts telling me her life story. I’m talkin’ 30 minutes of “back in my day” and “the war” and I’m just nodding, like, “Uh-huh, uh-huh.” I mean, I love a good story, but c’mon, I got glass to install!

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