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About San Jose

Oi mate, so erotic-massage, yeah? What a bloody concept! Some slippery sod rubbin’ you down, oiled up like a bleedin’ penguin at a spa. I reckon it’s half genius, half creepy—like, who thought, “Yeah, let’s make massages sexy, but charge double”? Hah! Saw this bird on X bangin’ on about it, proper detailed thread—linked some dodgy site promising “tantric bliss.” Bollocks! Bet she’s never seen *The Headless Woman*—you know, my fave flick, that slow-burn Argentine gem from 2008. Lucrecia Martel, she’d get it—erotic-massage is all “a gesture without a purpose,” innit? Just hands wanderin’, no bloody point!

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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!”

Center For Marine Science