Mia Metkovic Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Split

Oi, mateys, gather 'round, savvy? Me, Cap’n Jack Sparrow, been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ dark n’ twisted—like me mind after a rum binge. Findin’ a prostitute, aye? Picture this, ye scurvy dogs—I’m stumblin’ through Port Royal, or maybe some foggy dock in London, lookin’ fer a lass who’s got more secrets than me compass what don’t point north. “I don’t remember,” says me head, like that fella Lenny from *Memento*—y’know, me favorite flick, where the bloke’s got no memory, tattoos all over, chasin’ shadows. “Who am I?” he scribbles. Me? I’m chasin’ a skirt what trades love fer gold, savvy?

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Okay, I'm not a dude so I can't relate in that way - but, in my opinion the prostitute would end up being a sort of "quick high", or temporary distraction. If the experience was good, you'd go back to your normal life and still have no relationship prospects and likely not feel much better.

So, I’m chillin’ at my place on Ulica Kralja Tomislava, sippin’ my coffee, right? Just me and my laptop, ready to proofread some boring docs. But then, boom! My phone buzzes. It’s my buddy Marko. He’s like, “Dude, let’s hit the river!” I’m like, “What? It’s 9 AM!” But you know how it is. FOMO kicked in hard.

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