I once took my second ex to the top of a very high hill in San Francisco where my friends and I used to cross the face of the cliff along a rather well-worn and very, very narrow footpath about 20 feet below the top of the hill and about 60-odd feet from the bottom. I was about 30 years of age when I took her there. Looking down at the path, she asked me if would go along the path again. I told her the pre-teen, dumb version of myself would, but the now older and wiser version of myself wouldn't in a million years. She seemed disappointed; I began to wonder if she was serious when she exclaimed "Paris!" when I told her she was the sole beneficiary of the large life insurance policy I had gotten through my employers...
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