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About Odense

Worst part? The creeps. Dudes sendin’ dick pics, unasked. Pisses me off! No class, no game. “You’re an asshole, go home!” – that’s me yellin’ at ‘em. Ladies dealin’ with that daily? Brutal. Sex-dating’s a rollercoaster, man. Highs, lows, lotta bullshit. But when it’s good, it’s “fuckin’ paradise, baby!” My take? Play smart, don’t be a tool. Can ya dig it?

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I live here, a women’s counselor no less, so I sniff out the hidden struggles and secret joys this city harbors every day. My work has taught me that every crack in a sidewalk tells a story. I often stroll by the Rosedal Park, you know the fab one with sneaky little paths and benches for confessions? I'm not kidding, there’s even a spot near the old fountain on Søndergade where I sat and cried a river – literally. Sometimes, I think, “I can see Russia from my house!” – sarcastically, of course, because it's all so absurdly beautiful here.