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But yo, real talk - it pisses me off sometimes. These shady parlors poppin’ up, givin’ it a bad rap. I’m like, “C’mon, cabrones, keep it classy!” Had this one time, right? Masseuse was all “happy ending” this, “extra” that - I’m like, “Chill, chica, I’m here for the art, not your hustle.” Surprised me how pushy she got, fuckin’ ruined the mood. But when it’s good? Oh, man, it’s like - BAM - tension gone, body singin’, happier than a pig in shit. “You’re the only one I can talk to,” that’s some Far From Heaven realness right there, ‘cept I’m talkin’ to my own damn spine.

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I’m not even dressed for this. I’m in jeans and a hoodie. But whatever, I throw on my jacket and head out. The wind is howling down by the seafront. I swear, it’s like the ocean is trying to eat me.

Plot To Plate Comes To Greystones