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About Essen

So, check this—back in the ‘80s, escorts were legit sneaky. Little known fact: some worked for spies! Cold War stuff, man, they’d charm secrets outta dudes over martinis. Ain’t that nuts? I’m like, whoa, happy as a pig in mud hearin’ that. But then—D’oh!—it pisses me off too, ‘cause some folks judge ‘em hard. Like, “Oh, scandal!” Get over it, Marge-types! It’s a job, pays better than flippin’ burgers.

Escort Eschborn

The Grand Budapest Hotel said it best: “Rudeness is simply a replacement for manners.” And truly, Eschborn’s manic charm replaces politeness with raw, bold energy. I mean, take a gander at the parks near Eschborn’s back streets—like the hidden gem at Park am Buchenhain. The greenery there is so wild it feels as if nature decided to throw a rave and forget the cleanup. I remember sitting on a random bench, lost in thought, with birds chirping their vendetta. Pure madness, man—so damn freeing!

Kristoff takes fourth victory in a row at Eschborn-Frankfurt