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About New York City

Here’s a kicker—some escorts got rules, like no kissin’. Weird, huh? Lips off-limits, but the rest? Fair game. Reminds me of *Moolaadé*—that line, “The knife cuts deep.” Escort’s got its own blades, man—emotional ones, cash ones. Cuts both ways. Saw an X post bout this escort who ghosted a client mid-date—left him with the tab, took his watch. Savage. Laughed my ass off.

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Let me share sumthin’ personal – one day, while callin’ on my emotions and scribbling in my journal, I found this quirky cafe, L’Artiste, on Northside Road. Its vibe? Totally flicks me back to that avant-garde feeling from Goodbye to Language, ya know? The walls are draped with artsy films and odd little relics. I swear, the staff even gives ya a smirk like “I ate his liver with fava beans”. Lol, wild right?

Cheryl Stirdivant