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About The Hague

Humor in this? Oh, plenty. Sex-dating’s like a bad sitcom—dude brags “I’m 8 inches,” shows up, more like 8 millimeters. Sarcasm’s my shield— “Wow, you’re a real Casanova, huh?” Personal quirk? I judge their grammar. “Ur hot” gets a hard pass. Thoughts in my head? *Is this worth the Vicodin?* Probably not.

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Anna, who is from Romania, came to the Netherlands 10 years ago to work as a sex worker, renting a window in Amsterdam’s Red Light District (she uses a pseudonym to keep her .

Finally, I snag a pack and we head to the river. We’re sitting there, munching on our snacks, and I’m feeling good. The sun’s shining, the water’s glistening, and I’m just soaking it all in. Then, my buddy pulls out this ridiculous game he brought. It’s some weird card game, and I’m like, “Dude, we’re in Assendelft, not at a gaming convention!”

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