Esme Date Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Yokohama

Alright, so here’s me, Dr. Evil – pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” sizin’ up this thing called *whore*. Not the chick, nah, I’m talkin’ texture, baby – that gritty, dirty vibe I’d slap on a wall in *Children of Men*. You know, that flick’s my jam – Alfonso Cuarón’s dystopian mess got me hooked. Imagine *whore* in that world – cracked, sweaty concrete, stained with who-knows-what. Makes me wanna scream, "This is art, dammit!"

I can’t stop thinking about it.

This is allegedly something many men have gone through, and I'm curious about your experiences and lessons. What was great? What was tough?

We finally make it back to the car, and I’m like, “Let’s get outta here.” But nooo, my client wants to stop at the Date Museum. I’m like, “Dude, we just survived a riot! You wanna look at old stuff now?” But he insists.

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