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The dares, bets, and dumb decisions that started it all.
Friday night, our dorm, three empty beer cans each. My roommate Jake — who is annoyingly good-looking — needed cash.
The groom-to-be went live on his last night of freedom. What happened next was not in the wedding planning binder.
Standard truth or dare. Standard drinks. Non-standard ending: 'I dare you to go live for 10 minutes.'
Saturday night. Home alone. Bottle of Jameson. Bad decisions incoming. Woke up with $150 in tips.
Started as a one-time joke dare. Became a weekly thing. Then a schedule. Then a genuine income stream.