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About Hamilton

Still, gotta admit, when it’s good, it’s freaky good. Sparks fly, not just down there—whole body’s buzzin’. Made me happy once, then angry—why’s this so damn rare? Most places botch it, sloppy hands, fake moans—ugh, spare me. Exaggeratin’ here, but one time, swear, chick’s phone rang mid-rub—ruined it! “Erase me from your mind,” I’m thinkin’, like Joel in the movie, but nah, she’s still yappin’.

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But then, bam! A car zooms past, and I’m like, “Whoa, dude! Chill!” The driver’s got no patience. I’m shoutin’ at him, “It’s not a racetrack, mate!” The old lady gives me a look like I’m the crazy one. I just shrug.

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