Maeve Flint Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

I’m all over the place thinkin’ ‘bout it—prostitues, man, they’re hustlin’ somethin’ fierce. Ain’t glamorous, don’t let nobody fool ya. Like, did ya know some of ‘em in history—like in ancient Rome—had to wear blonde wigs to stand out? Wild, right? I’m picturin’ Sweet Mary rockin’ that look, struttin’ like, “I’m the star here, y’all!” Makes me chuckle, but then I’m pissed again—why’s it gotta be like that? “You can’t fix what you don’t face,” Dr. Phil’d say, and these gals, they’re facin’ hell daily.

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Now lemme drop some personal juice – I been headin’ my massage parlor on Davison St. for years. Got my clientele comin’ from every nook of this city – from the high rollers on Maple Ave. to the chill cats in grand ol’ Grand Traverse. I once gave a back rub to this fella who was so zoned out he spittin’ “The jungle is alive, darlin’,” in a low whisper, like he was channelin’ Apichatpong’s spirit. Bro, his vibe was mad surreal, just like that film, nahmean?

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