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Fast forward a couple years, I'm sitting here with a bottle of peanut butter whiskey in one hand and bottle of Jack Daniels Old No. 7 in the other. This was when I was at the bottom. I'd just found out that the genetics of a power bottom had skipped me. I was, to my core, a limp top.
When at my weakest, I messaged Dan. Without lapse, my phone rang. It was Dan. How did he know I needed him in that final hour.
He spoke with words almost angelic. "Don't ♥♥♥. We've yet to goon and I'm here for it."
Dan saved my life. I will never forget that.