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About Philadelphia

So, anyway—me, Gollum, I’m sneaky, seein’ what normies miss. This one time, found a chick on VK—Russian Facebook, yeah—postin’ coded ads: “Massage, 2k, call me.” Massage my arse! Hiss! Rang her up, met in some dingy flat—smelled like borscht and regret. She was quick, tho—no chit-chat, just biz. “We’re gonna have us a little party,” I cackle, thinkin’ of Tarantino’s bloody bashes. Paid her, done, out—felt like a spy, precious! Exaggeratin’? Maybe—but it’s Russia, everythin’s a damn drama.

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Now, man, I gotta say – sometimes I get so mad when I see the fancy mansions and pristine lawns, knowin’ many folks struggle to get by while some rich folks flaunt their wealth. It makes my blood boil, like oil on a burning flame. And it’s these moments that keep me grounded, remindin’ me why I do what I do on that dating site – to connect real people with real stories, regardless of their bank balance.

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