Sadie Wallington Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About New York City

So, I’m chattin’ her up—nervous as hell, palms sweaty. She’s all, “50 bucks, honey,” and I’m like, “Whoa, steep!” Bargained her down to 40—felt like a Jedi master! Happy vibes, man, ‘til I thought—sh*t, what’s her story? “The past is never where you think you left it,” movie says. Maybe she’s runnin’ from somethin’. Made me sad, yo—nobody dreams of this gig.

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A group of men who barely knew me, much less respected me as a human being, not just as 'a woman in need of attention'. Find me on Instagram and Facebook.

I mean, damn, some days I get so damn happy here! Other days, shit upends, and I’m mad as hell over a busted heater in the spa. But hey, life's a ride and you're along for the fucking thrill, right? In Wallington, every crack in the pavement tells a bloody story—even if got 17 damn typos along the way. (Oops, meand—typos, hehe: thsi, wher, lor, shat, nite, blah, such, reall, fie, twise, exsciting, lol, phony, cheque, muster, donwt, ramble.)

Softball photos: Park Ridge at Wallington, N1G1 SF - May 31, 2024