Ivy Myrtle Grove Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Now, *Wolf of Wall Street* vibes—imagine Belfort runnin’ one. “Sell me this pen,” nah, “sell me this night!” He’d be pimpin’, snortin’, screamin’, “I’m not fuckin’ leavin’!” That’s the energy—chaos, excess, no shame. Brothels got that in spades. Ever been? Nah, don’t answer, I don’t care. Point is, they’re messy, loud, alive—kinda like me. Surprised me once, heard a girl there saved up, bought a house—hustle harder than most suits. Respect.

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Joan divorced again and became madam at the Myrtle Grove brothel in Roe Street. Girls would often leave when a new madam came in, so Joan finished up with only.

And then there’s the dating scene here, LOL – my work’s literally all about matchmaking. I see sparks in dark corners of Redwood Square and joy on lively nights at downtown's Neon Alley. It’s like every meeting’s a staccato beat of a song playing in your head. I often joke, “This is where love’s a high-risk op – bomb squad style!”

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