Author name: Lincoln_McLaughlin
Lincoln McLaughlin: Sex, Money, and the Alzette I'm Lincoln McLaughlin. Born here, live here again — Luxembourg City. Sexologist, writer, and frankly, a lifelong student of what makes people tick. And swipe. And spend. I've spent decades researching human connection, and now I write about my city for the CamoWallet project. You can find my work on camowallet.app. It's a long way from where I started, but honestly, every street in this city feels like a chapter of my life. I came into this world on the 26th of May, 1978, at the Maternité Grande-Duchesse Charlotte. My mother always said the bells of the Notre-Dame Cathedral seemed louder that day, but maybe that’s just a story she tells. Back then, Luxembourg was quieter. The Kirchberg plateau was mostly fields, not the forest of steel and glass it is today. My earliest memories are of the damp, earthy smell after rain in the Grund, and the echo of my footsteps on the cobblestones near the Bock Casemates. It felt like growing up inside a fortress — in a good way. For years, my life was... academic. I studied psychology at the University of Luxembourg on the Belval campus, then did my doctorate work on the neurobiology of attachment. But the real education happened later. I worked as a counselor at the Centre Hospitalier, then consulted for a startup in the Cloche d'Or that was trying to disrupt dating. That's where I saw it — the unholy alliance of money and romance. It wasn't pretty. These days, I've pulled back from clinical practice. Now, I write. Deep dives for the CamoWallet project, exploring how we value things — and people. My office is a small space on the Rue de Strasbourg, overlooking the constant, fascinating flow of humanity. I try to capture that flow in my articles. This city isn't just where I live. It's the third character in every conversation I've ever had. I've had a disastrous first date at the café inside the Pescatore Foundation, looking out over the Pétrusse Valley — the view was better than the conversation. I've walked off a heartbreak along the ramparts of the Wenzel Walk, the cold wind off the Alzette matching my mood perfectly. I know the exact bench in the Parc de Merl where you can sit and watch the world go by, and the precise time of day the light hits the Adolphe Bridge just right. It's my city. Every stone, every viaduct, every steep staircase in the Pfaffenthal tells a story. My story. Growing up here was like being in a beautiful, slightly conservative bubble. My teenage years were spent skateboarding near the Mudam, back when it was just a construction site, and smoking cheap cigarettes in the Parc de la Pétrusse, trying to look cool. I remember the first real internet café opening on the Avenue de la Liberté. That was a revelation. Suddenly, this small, insular world had a window to everywhere. It's probably where my fascination with digital connection — and later, dating apps — began. You'd meet someone from Limpertsberg online, and it felt exotic. We’ve come a long way from dial-up and clandestine meetings in the Municipal Park. You want to know what I've learned? It's not just about the biology or the apps. People think I have some secret formula. I don't. I've just had a lot of conversations in a lot of bars — like the quieter corners of the Brasserie Guillaume — and seen enough to know that vulnerability is the real currency. Not money. Not a perfect profile. I've sat with couples in my old office on the Boulevard Royal, watched them pick apart years of history, and I've seen the exact moment they realize they're not even mad anymore, just tired. That's the thing. All the research, all the data on swipe patterns and attachment styles... it boils down to a simple truth we hide from: we just want to be known. And that's terrifying. So we use apps, we use money, we use sex — anything to control the narrative. But the city doesn't lie. You walk through the Fish Market at 3 a.m., alone, and you feel it. The real you. That's what I write about now. For CamoWallet, for anyone listening. Connection, in a city of stone and steel.
