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About Saitama

Hmmm, sex-dating, you ask? Tricky, it is. Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… swipin’ left on losers gets old fast. Like, real fast. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, y’know? Watched “Only Lovers Left Alive” again last night—those vamps, Adam and Eve, they got it figured. Centuries of bangin’, no apps needed. “Tainted love, it spreads,” Eve says, and damn, she’s right. Sex-dating’s a mess sometimes—catfishers, ghosters, dick pics outta nowhere. Pisses me off, man! Had this one dude, profile said “6’2, poet,” turns out 5’8 and a creep. Fear of that shit makes ya ragey.

Special Reports

First off, I hit up the local café on Nakadori Street. You know, the one with the weird cat statue out front? Yeah, that one. I ordered a matcha latte, thinking I’d be all zen and stuff. But nah, the barista totally messed it up. I got a plain ol’ black coffee instead. Like, c’mon! I’m trying to vibe here!

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