Gianna Stavern Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Trondheim

So, check it—whore ain’t just a word, it’s a whole damn galaxy of mess. Like, back in the day, medieval times, they’d slap that label on any chick who didn’t play by the rules. Midwives? Whores. Healers? Whores. Dudes were shook, so they flipped it into shame. Pisses me off, yo! Why’s it always the ladies gettin screwed over? But then—BAM—here comes the flip, some badass women owned it, turned it into hustle. Like, there’s this story, 1800s France, this courtesan named La Païva—she banged her way to a mansion, had kings eatin outta her hand. Straight savage! I’m like, "YAAAS, QUEEN, GET THAT BREAD!"

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The English pub, the French tavern, and the Greek café have been centers of male drinking rituals that have excluded females.

Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Lars. He’s at the beach, sending me pics of him chilling with a beer. I’m like, “Lars, you’re killing me!” But then I remember, it’s Stavern. The beach is just a stone’s throw away. I could be there, soaking up the sun instead of dealing with Mr. Yelling.

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