Anna Kenley Sex Dating ❤️❤️

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This one time, X post said: “Met dude, smashed, he ghosted.” Classic! Aliens don’t get ghostin’. We’d zap ya, done. Sex-dating’s brutal—u bare ur soul (n ass), then nada. “You’re not dying, Chas,” Royal’d quip. But nah, it feels like death! I’d exaggerate—cosmic heartbreak, stars weepin’. Lol, dramatic much?

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Grab my coffee, and I’m back at the station. Train finally arrives, and I squeeze in. It’s packed, like sardines in a can. I’m squished between this guy who smells like he’s been marinating in old socks and a lady with a million shopping bags. I’m thinking, “Why do I do this to myself?”

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