Emily Ruppichteroth Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dortmund

So, I’m strollin’, tryna find a chick who’s, uh, *available*. How you doin’, ladies? I spot this one gal, all sass, leanin’ on a corner like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “She’s got that *Moonrise* spunk—‘I’m not leaving without you!’” I swagger up, all Joey-style, “Hey, how you doin’?” She smirks, like, “Boy, you lost?” I’m laughin’, but inside I’m like—damn, this is wild! Did ya know, back in the day, some prostitutes used secret codes? Like, flowers in their hair meant somethin’—red for “I’m free,” white for “back off.” Crazy, right? History’s freaky like that.

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And please to get some news from Ruppichteroth would be nice just to know how things are. But now every letter was urgent – I must, had to, it was.

I luv it here, even when it gets cray. Every corner tells a story. rly, even the gnarled trees on Dorfstrasse feel like “I could die happy” stares from the cosmos. I’m not exaggerating – ugh, sometimes I get mad when the Wi-Fi’s meh and then happy when I get a perfect match on our app. Its magic is, like, eternal, just like that movie, you know?

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