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About San Antonio

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.

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Don’t even get me started on Sunnydale. That neighborhood’s a chaotic masterpiece. Little houses, art walls, and secret spots for quiet meditation. I chill in a tiny park on Oak Ln. The park’s name is “Chillax Grove.” Its benches tell stories… full of faded graffiti and whispered dreams. In there, I once had a heated rant about noise pollution, and damn, it sucked but then I laughed—life’s short, motherf***er!

Montana: why buyers in the Big Sky State want small ‘ranchettes’