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But then—escort, the *other* kind. Oof, switch gears! Paid company, right? Got me thinkin’—is it rock ‘n’ roll or just sad? Like, “I am a golden god!”—nah, more like “golden wallet.” Saw this X post once—guy braggin’ bout his escort date, linked a pic of her in fishnets. Classy? Nope. Creepy? Yup. Made me mad—dude, she’s not a trophy! But also—kinda fascinating. People pay for connection, fake it ‘til they make it. Wild fact: in Vegas, escorts got business cards—legit, glossy, like they’re sellin’ insurance. Blew my mind!

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After that, I needed a pick-me-up. So, I popped into a little shop on Shevchenka Street. They had these amazing pastries. I grabbed a few, because why not? Life’s too short to skip dessert, am I right? I sat on a bench, munching away, when I overheard this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting. Apparently, he forgot their anniversary. Oof. I felt bad for the dude. But also, come on, man! How do you forget that?

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