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Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—yep, the witty dwarf who drinks and knows things. So, sex-dating, huh? This wild game of swiping and shagging—it’s like a bloody battlefield, innit? Reminds me of *Leviathan*, that grim flick I adore—everyone’s drowning in their own mess, chasing somethin’ they can’t quite grab. “Man is a wolf to man,” as that film growls, and sex-dating proves it—half the time, you’re dodging creeps or catfishers who’d sell their nan for a quick romp.

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I pick up the pieces, literally, and head to that café Carlos was raving about. It’s on Calle 60, and let me tell ya, it’s cute! I order a coffee, and the barista is super chill. We start chatting, and I’m like, “You know, I bake bread.” She’s like, “No way! You should bring some here!” I’m thinking, “Maybe I should start a bread revolution!”

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