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About Nantes

Sometimes I’m like, “This is peak human engineering.” Other times, “Why am I overanalyzing a damn rubdown?” Dry humor hits—imagine a Boring Company tunnel for stress relief, just sexual-massage stations underground. Meme it: “When she massages but you’re still plotting Starlink.” Truth is, it’s dope—releases endorphins like a rocket shedding boosters. “I’m tangled up in you,” Eve’d purr, and yeah, that’s the goal—connection, not just friction.

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First off, I decided to hit up the local café, Café de la Paix. I mean, who doesn’t love a good croissant, right? I’m standing in line, and this dude in front of me orders, like, ten pastries. I’m like, “Bro, are you feeding an army?” He just shrugs. Whatever, I’m not judging. I finally get my coffee, and it’s perfect. Like, the barista knows me. I’m basically a regular.

First look: Mizuno’s new ST-MAX 230 metal woods