There once was a man, who for privacy's sake I'll call Jake. I was introduced to him by the girl who later broke his heart, and we became close friends as we worked out his issues surrounding that breakup and my crush on another one of her exes. If it sounds crazy, that's because it was. We both loved music and poetry; he had a glorious tenor voice that sounded like velvet on your ears. He hated it.
He became my own personal Judas. We wound up in this weird place where we were not-quite-lovers but more-than-friends. He kept telling me he was a terrible guy for me, and I knew he was right. I learned, however, that both love and lust are slippery slopes, and once you start falling there's no stopping unless someone catches you or you crash-land.
We crash-landed. Hindenberg-style. Now Jake wants to start over and build a relationship again. In a lot of ways, it's like he's come back from the dead. I don't know what to do.
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