Aww Man is an internet radio show hosted by Rory Hinchey, which also books concerts in Prague for musicians who play unusual music.
The next live radio show is scheduled for March 22, 2026 at 11:00 CET with an in-studio performance by LÁZ . The streaming page (which launches in a new window) cycles through a limited number of archived shows otherwise.
The playlists section below has links to all recorded editions of the show in downloadable .mp3 format, shows are available as podcasts on Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, and TuneIn.
Email: r{@}awwman.net
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/awwmanradiobooking/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/awwmanradiobooking/
Podcast RSS feed: https://awwman.net/rss/awwman-podcast.rss
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Download - -pusatfilm21.info-my-sex-doll-bodyg... File
“What do you mean? You sold me a book.”
She texted the number he’d left. “Friday works. But you’re choosing the restaurant.” Dinner was awkward at first, in the best way. They talked over each other, interrupted with apologies, laughed too loud at things that weren’t that funny. He told her he was a civil engineer—he designed bridges. “I like making connections,” he said, then immediately turned red. She told him she’d been engaged once, six years ago, and it fell apart because they were in love with the idea of being in love, not with each other.
She stared at him. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” Download - -PUSATFILM21.INFO-my-sex-doll-bodyg...
“That’s not a meet-cute. That’s commerce.”
Here’s a story about relationships and the quiet, unexpected ways romantic storylines unfold. Elena had stopped believing in grand gestures somewhere around her twenty-ninth birthday. The candles-on-a-beach setup, the flash-mob proposal, the lover who sprinted through airport terminals—those were for people whose lives resembled movies. Hers was a steady hum of deadlines, yoga pants, and takeout containers that stacked up like a monument to her own solitude. “What do you mean
One evening, after the store had closed and she was restocking the fiction shelf, she found a small folded note tucked inside a copy of Persuasion —her favorite Austen. It read: “You recommended a book that feels like Sunday coffee. I’m recommending you. Dinner, Friday? If you say no, I’ll still buy books here. But I’ll be slightly sad.”
Elena started to look forward to his visits. She found herself rearranging her schedule, lingering near the front door at the time he usually appeared. She caught herself smiling at a customer’s stupid joke and realized she was hoping it was him. But you’re choosing the restaurant
He wasn't her type. Her type was brooding artists or sharp-suited cynics—men who looked like they'd just stepped out of a black-and-white film. Liam was… pleasant. Open-faced. He wore a worn-out hoodie from a university he probably hadn't attended and carried a paperback so battered it looked like it had been used as a chew toy.
