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About Hamburg

Sometimes I wonder—late night, sippin’ whiskey—what’s it like, y’know? Bein’ an escort, dodgin’ creeps, fakin’ smiles. Gotta be tough as nails. Prolly lonely too—makes me sad, thinkin’ they’re out there, no backup. “You’re on your own now,” I hear Bigelow whisperin’ in my head. But then—bam!—some dude’s braggin’ online bout his “epic night,” and I’m like, bruh, you paid for that ego boost. Cracks me up—escorts are the real MVPs, playin’ these fools like fiddles.