On Valentines Day, I was excited about driving a bunch of couples to dinner, listening to stories about their romance, so I turned on the app and hit the road. But the passenger that stood out most wasn’t a couple. It was a good looking young guy (about 25) who jumped in my car with an unusual level of exuberance. If I can smell your boozy breath from the back of the car, you’re drunk. So, I’m gonna go ahead and say he was drunk. But his energy was far too speedy and amped up for alcohol, so I’m guessing he was mixing medicines.
A simple “How are you?” got him going. “Oh man, I’m OUT-STANDING”, he said with the sort of enthusiasm that only comes when you’ve won the lottery or maybe when you’re inhaling something white. “What you got going on tonight?” I probed. “Oh man, just hitting it, man. Taking swings. Swinging and missing, swinging and missing, all night.” He’s dripping with glee. I clarified that “swinging” means spending the evening at a bar hitting on women. “Yep, you GOT to!” he endorsed, as if it’s an obligation. “It’s Valentines Day, bro. This is THE best day of the year to take advantage of girls’ loneliness, man!” I said, “Wait, you capitalize on girls loneliness if they don’t have a date for Valentines Day?” “Of course! You GOT to, bro! There’s no better time!”
Funny thing. Although I’m a guy, I find myself identifying with the “lonely.” I’m feeling for the women. I’m feeling for me. And I’m feeling for HIM. All the years I spent numbing my loneliness by chasing women blur together like a fiery squall in my mind. Loneliness can cause a soul-sickness. For years it struck me deaf, dumb and blind so I couldn’t make a sound decision around women. Maybe today, I can save some people some trouble, so I ask, “Are you lonely?”
He laughed the way a native speaker laughs at an immigrant twisting up the language. “Hell no!, I’m not lonely. I’m living the dream! It’s Valentines Day, yo. Do you know how many lonely girls are out there looking for a hook up? That’s what Tinder’s all about bro. In fact right now I’m getting ready to go take swings on Tinder. I guarantee you I’m getting a hit tonight.”
I say, “OK, so lets assume you hook up. What happens the next day when she finds out that you were just taking advantage of her loneliness? Doesn’t that create complications for everybody?” The young lad chuckled and began to educate me about how the young ladies are doing the same thing these days. About how “times have changed” and the women are just as interested in random hook-ups as the men. About the “secret clubs” on west campus (the student housing community west of the city) where he recommends I go to take “swings.” He told me where the club is, and how easy it would be for me.
I let my mind saunter in there for a moment. Tug o’ War. I imagined myself going in meet a 23-year old, but suddenly was jolted by the shock of an electric fence in my mind. Once I crossed that line the fence shocks me with the word CREEP. Linger too long in that place, CREEP becomes an electric chair. But if you’re drunk or stoned, maybe you don’t know you’re frying away. I was disappointed and glad at the same time. I envied the guy and pitied him at once.
“Nah, that’s not for me anymore”, I told him. “A man’s values change as he gets to be my age. Trust me, you’re not going to want to be stalking young ladies in a bar anymore.” He ridiculed me and invoked the wise master, Matthew McConaughey, who once played a character who said, “I just keep getting older, they stay the same.” I heard that and thought, well, that’s not really getting older then, is it? That’s sort of like trying to climb a mountain and getting your foot snagged in the realm of perpetual loneliness. I wonder, is an artificial image of Matthew McConaughey keeping this guy’s foot snagged? Is he dazed and confused because of the drugs and alcohol, or is the pain of being dazed and confused causing him to drug and drink?
As I turned the corner to drop him off at his dorm, I asked him what he was studying. “I’m not in school anymore”, he said. Then he told me, “I’m 36. I have a job. I just like living here, man. Its fun.”
Oh. I see. Funny thing, people always spill the real truth just before getting out of the car. Call it “car-door therapy.”
One hand on the door handle, one foot out, he turns to me and says, “I’m not a creep, you know.” I asked, “Has anyone told you you’re a creep?” “No, I just want you to know. I’m not over here taking advantage of these college girls. I’m not a creep.”
And then this 36-year-old man-boy jumped out of my car and went up to his room in student housing to take his swings.
His electric fence is up. He just doesn’t know it yet.
*Names and some details have been changed to protect identities.
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This post is republished on Medium
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Photo credit: iStock
Greg,
I love this story. So well-written, and so much truth about loneliness, the hookup culture, and being conscious in the world of relationships.
As a dating coach for women, I can so relate. And I’ve been seriously thinking of driving for Uber. You may have convinced me of an added bonus. Blog fodder!
Thanks Sandy! That’s an excellent idea! You’ll have no shortage of material! Let me know if you need any help with that and how I can support you!