My Uber Driver Mind-Fucked Me On The Way Home

Or maybe it’s the other way round

I had a shitty day. Actually the days and nights have blended into a delicate splice of my insanity.

I knew I could be crazy. But not this crazy!

I tell myself every morning that I won’t be defeated. But, I’m exceedingly exhausted of being able to weather the shit thrown my way.

I’m also tired of being told by my parents that God has a plan for me — every time I divulge my frustration and pain over my current assignment.

If God has a plan  I don’t want to know about it. He’s clearly lost his skills due to the overwhelming need for his expertise — and quite frankly I’m over it.

The answer for all our issues is to believe that God will see us out of it. I don’t need to be rescued. I will never tell my mom and dad because they will pray for me incessantly without a break — and I won’t let them waste precious time and energy.

I’m not afraid to die.

That’s why religion doesn’t impact or gratify me. I don’t need to be assured of heaven and hell — and I already know that we all end up in the same damn place — regardless of what our lives offered while we were breathing.

So, my day ended with me realizing that I will be jobless in a week. I was hired to be an editor but instead of performing those duties — I was tasked with fucking social media senseless at the expense of my own orgasm

As I left the office at 11:30 pm after scheduling tweets and aggregating pieces about Donald Trump’s Playboy bunny — I waited for Uber with hardly a breath in me.

He picked me up and even in the darkness I could tell he was handsome. What am I saying?! He was hot and he smelled good and his accent was butter.

I got in and I could feel myself getting lighter, with that familiar sensation that reminds you of what really matters.

The solution you release with flourished fury.

We talked. We talked a lot.

I thought he was just being nice when he asked if the music was good but then the songs were orchestrated for the moment.

We picked up another passenger and his concern about him crossing the street — raised my admiration.

The person got dropped off first — thank God!

It was just us.

We talked about Uber and New York. He lived there too. He was from Colombia. He had a bad experience with a drunk passenger who tried to make out with him while he was on the freeway. He broke up with a girlfriend because back in New York, she was a wild one. A fellow Columbian, who knew how to speak French and loved to drink too much. She once seduced an Uber driver to her apartment and accused him of trying to take advantage of her.

He doesn’t drink. That got me off.

To my stop.

He turned and said my accent gave away the fact that I wasn’t local.

I smiled and thanked him for the ride. He wished me a good night. As I walked away I looked at my phone. A text message from the driver from the other night.

Uber. Keep it coming baby. Keep me coming.

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say!