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About Port Elizabeth

Alright, so sex-dating, huh? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—what’s the deal with this? It’s like, you swipe, you chat, you bang—bam! Done! Pretty, pretty good, right? But then, oh no, it’s not! It’s a mess! A total mess! I mean, I’m no Casanova, but this sex-dating thing—it’s nuts! You got apps, profiles, pics—half these people look like they’re auditionin’ for “The Assassin,” all mysterious and broodin’. Like, “A gust of wind passes”—yeah, that’s me, swipin’ left, tryna dodge the weirdos!

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Oh, and hey! Ever strolled by the Old Mill? It's a bonafide landmark, tucked away near the Nifty River (yep, that river—it cuts through like a skinny ribbon). You can catch the sunset from the banks. Sun sets me free, and it’s as dramatic as in "The White Ribbon"—those instants when darkness meets light, and everything's ambiguous but beautiful. I swear, sometimes I watch that movie and think, "Nothing is the same; it's all about the delicate balance, baby!"

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