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About Reykjavik

So, sex-dating—swipin’ left, right, horny folks tryna score. It’s a jungle, mate, pure chaos! Apps like Tinder, Grindr, whatever—folks actin’ all suave, but half the time they’re just thirsty AF. I saw this dude’s profile once—shirtless, flexin’, bio said “just vibes.” Vibes? Mate, you’re beggin’ for a hookup, not a soulmate! Made me laugh, tho—kinda sad too. Reminds me of “A Prophet”—“You’re alone now,” that cold line. Sex-dating feels like that—alone, even when you’re chattin’ up ten people.

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I'm living it up in Gardabaer and find-a-prostitute is nifty! I need to taste your lips again. I indulge in Anal Sex (depends on the size) and Blowjob without.

But then, outta nowhere, he starts talking about how he used to fish in the ocean. And I’m like, “Wait, what? There’s fishing here?” I had no idea! I mean, I’ve lived here for a while, and I never thought about fishing. I’m just an animation artist, not a fisherman! But now I’m curious. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.

From Iceland — My Way Or The Highway