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About Groningen

Oi, mortals, it’s me, Loki—yep, *that* Loki, smug mischief god, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” here to spill some tea on sex-dating. Buckle up, ‘cause this economist trickster’s got thoughts, and they’re messy—like my hair after Thor’s thunder tantrums. Sex-dating, huh? It’s like capitalism on steroids—supply, demand, and a lotta sweaty negotiations. You swipe, you wink, you pray they ain’t catfishing with a pic from 2010. I’m talkin’ apps like Tinder, Grindr, whatever—modern meat markets where everyone’s sellin’ somethin’, even if it’s just a vibe.

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I’m walking, and I see this street performer. He’s playing the accordion, and honestly, he’s not half bad. I toss him a couple of euros, and he gives me a nod. I’m feeling generous, ya know? But then, this group of tourists comes by, and they start taking selfies with him. I’m like, “Dude, he’s not a prop!” But whatever, let them have their fun.

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