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About Essen

I reckon it’s freedom, right? Students, younguns, takin’ charge of their bits—self-determination, my arse. Half these sods don’t know what they want—swipe right, shag, repeat. I drink, I know things—did ya know, back in ‘15, some uni bloke made a sex-dating bot? Matched with 50 birds, didn’t even leave his dorm—genius or lazy, you pick. Got me chuffed, that did. But then, there’s the dark side—catfishin’, creeps, and “send nudes” pricks. Pissed me off once, this lass told me her date showed up 20 stone heavier—*“We’re all ashes here”*, I told her, quotin’ Saul. Dust to dust, mate, but at least be honest on Tinder.

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Oh, and lemme tell ya ’bout my fave spot – the tiny backstreet near Rabenweg. It’s a hidden gem where the best street grub pops up and the locals chatter like spirited B-movie extras. I often chill there after a long day, havin’ a cheeky lie-down, thinkin’ “yo, this is the life!” Even if I get mad sometimes ‘coz of the nosy taxi drivers buzzin’ 'round my shop, the vibe keeps me goin’.

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