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Little known fact, tho—back in the 90s, before apps, folks used newspaper ads for hookups. Called ‘em “personal columns.” Horny losers writin’, “Man seeks woman, no strings, must like cats.” Imagine the balls it took! No pics, just vibes. Now we got dick pics flyin’ left n’ right—progress, huh? Makes me laugh, but also kinda pissed. Where’s the mystery? Everybody’s oversharin’. “We’re gonna find out who did this,” like the *Spotlight* team, but in sex-dating, it’s more like, “Who’s gonna screw me over next?”

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Go through the many galleries to see classy ladies crapping their cute panties, go down and dirty and fuck hardcore while being covered in shit, or masturbate and ride dicks until they explode Missing: Bodegraven.

Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud noise. It’s a bunch of kids on bikes, racing down the Zwarteweg. They’re screaming and laughing, and I can’t help but smile. It’s like, that’s the spirit, right? But then one of them crashes into a lamppost. Ouch! I’m torn between laughing and checking if he’s okay. He gets up, brushes it off, and yells, “I’m fine!” Classic.

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