I think (I think) every decent man has had to play this role AT LEAST once in his young manhood. There’s something very primal that is programmed in the good ones that pounds his chest and speaks in a gravely tone “urgh, female need help, I have ability to help, I HELP FEMALE, BE HERO OF NIGHT!…ALL WILL TREMBLE AT HEROCITY!”
This role I affectionately refer to as Captain Save-A-Ho.
I can’t take credit for coining the term but I will most definitely take credit for making use of the title and contributing to its character. It’s a role I’ve had to play on more than one occasion. Not saying that I like playing the role or even that I hate it. I see it as a necessity. A time to act and to take action! to preserve the life and to remedy poor decision making for Hos far and wide! Mostly it’s just a waste of time but if I don’t at least offer to help, I will be going against everything I believe in. And GAWD FORBID my STARK MORAL CODE is compromised! Whatever shall I do?
I dunno, I guess I’ll just keep on or whatthefuckever.
As always, this post will Not be Safe For Work
Ugh…so THIS bitch…
Ok, lemme start over. Context is needed
I’m an Uber driver as well as a bouncer because when I’m not getting paid to write, I GUESS I need to make money one way or another so I can be self-sufficient ‘n shit.
I usually do my driving at night. Living in L.A. provides daily tests of one’s patience with regards to traffic. And more people need rides at night and the early morning. That PLUS no sun? I’m stoked. Anyways, I’m cruising around Midcity when I get the call. I show up to my location and as I’m waiting for my pick-up, I get a call from the orderer of the Uber.
Not the person’s address I’ve arrived at. Oh. Good?
The guy tells me that he’s ordered this ride for a girl who should be coming out in a second and asks me to ask her to call him when they’re on the way.
Fantastic. It’s 3:30am I am now the booty call mediator. I’m feeling SUPER excited about this ride now. NOT ONLY am I NOT having sex, but I am explicitly aware of someone who is…which is a pointless thing to think about if you take into account the amount of people in the world and how many of them are bangin’ at any given moment…think about it.
ok stop. I’m telling a story.
So the girl in question comes bouncing down her driveway, presumably incredibly excited about getting laid in the wee hours of the morning, and hops in the front seat. And She’s adorable. So not only am I the booty call mediator…but some dude is going to get to see this little breath of fresh air naked…and I don’t…*sigh* sometimes it’s not fair. We exchange names and she says she’s ready to go
Yeah, no, I can’t remember her name.
We start off on our merry way and, I shit you not, at the end of her street she says to me, “wait, what the fuck am I doing?”
This, friends, is what addicts refer to as a “moment of clarity.”
She says she’s still relatively fucked-up and shows me the spiderweb of a crack that splinters the entire screen of a phone that she allegedly bought 2 days prior. She also says she has no idea who this dude is or when she met him or how he got her number. Much less her address.
I fill her in on her situation and tell her that I’m still going to drive the trip (it’s only 10 minutes) but whether or not she gets out is up to her. I also tell her, after she’s filled me in on just how unfamiliar she is with this dude, that there is ONLY one thing that ANY guy who’s still awake at 3:30am wants.
SEX, people, c’mon! The prospect of literally being INSIDE a woman’s body.
And she doesn’t believe me. Trust me, I was surprised at how much convincing it took to convince her that all this dude wanted to do was fuck. Which should’ve been my (1..2..3..4..) like, FIFTH red flag that this ride was doomed to begin with.
She makes the decision that she is NOT going to to go over to this dude’s house and I’m like “aight, we’re goin’ back…hungry?” she’s like “yaaaasssss, let’s get jack in the box”
So we do, on the drive to Jack and then back to her house she receives text after text after text from this dude asking her where she is, when she’s getting there in the form of “hey-I reallyreallyreallyreallyreally wanna bang” desperation messages. Until he starts calling.
This is where it starts to suck.
I finish the trip and complete it on my app like I said I would so she had time to make a decision and the poor shmuck wasn’t paying too much. Not 2 minutes after we turn around does she get a call from him asking her where she is.
“blahblahblah honey, baby, blah we’re 10 minutes away”
Another call: “blahblahblahblah sweetheart, honey, blah we’re actually lost.”
wait…oh my gawd that’s so mean. She’s openly fucking with this dude, and, I’ll admit, after the first couple calls I started to feel sorry for him…but then he. kept. calling.
She kept saying she was lost and on the way, and the cycle continued until we got back to the address I picked her up at. AND GUESS FUCKING WHAT. She’s locked herself out. No keys. No clue. No dignity.
THIS LOOKS LIKE A JOB FOR CAPTAIN SAVE-A-HO!
Duh Duh DOOOOOOOOGETYOURSHITTOGETHERRRRRRRR
Captain Save-A-Ho takes over (guys, it’s totally me) and recognizes this lost soul so he offers his roof and his couch to this girl. Long. story. short. I won’t bother with petty details. She stayed on my couch left before I woke up and I’m probably never going to see her again.
Totally ok with that.
Moral of this Captain Save-A-Ho episode is this:
Ladies, don’t be fuckin’ mean and lead dudes on, ESPECIALLY if they’re drunk and lookin’ to get laid. They’ll get over it. They’ll go home, feel lonely, jerk-off, feel INSTANTLY better, then pass out.
Gentlemen, DON”T BE A FUCKIN’ IDIOT, I KNOW IT”S DIFFICULT but unless you’re both drunk together going to the same place. AT THE SAME TIME. She’s NOT gonna come find you, her bed is more comfortable than you and ODDS ARE she’s too smart for you anyway. If, by some GAWDFORSAKEN MIRACLE she ACTUALLY wants you to order her an Uber or Lyft to pick her up and take you to her place, THERE”S SOMETHING CALLED GPS WE HAVE NOW IN THIS TECHNOLOGICAL AGE. GETTING LOST GOING FROM POINT A to POINT B is DAMN. NEAR. IMPOSSIBLE.
She’s not lost. You’re just stoopid. Stop calling. You’re not gonna get laid tonight. You’ll live.
I need a drink.
Cheers, beautiful people,