fireworksTo Whom It May Concern at Uber*:

You people dicked me over! I thought I could rely on you, but when I needed you the most, you were nowhere to be found! I can’t tell you how often this has happened to me in my life, because it has been often, but I can tell you that I never expected it from an organization that had spoiled me with such convenience before the ultimate betrayal.

Recently, a dear friend and longtime on-an-off sexual partner was visiting New York City from Chicago. The reason Cath** and I have been mostly on-and-off is because we haven’t lived in the same area since we both graduated from college. Which, in some ways, makes it completely amazing when we are able to connect in the same area when we are both single. We engage in what you might call “sexcapades.” It really is awesome.

So I had high hopes for her most recent visit. She was in town staying with her college roommate, who lives in Brooklyn, but far away from me in Brooklyn, in an area where women should not be walking around alone at night. (This is an important facet of this story.)

One night, I met Cath and our other friend, Anne, at a bar in a section of Brooklyn called DUMBO. We drank and caught up for a few hours. It was a lot of fun, because Cath is not only excellent in the sack, she is a genuinely entertaining and nice person to be around. Also, she has a legendary rack.

A great deal of our conversation centered around an erotic parody film the girls had been jokingly (I think) plotting out during Cath’s visit. It would be a pretty decent fit for Lifetime, if Lifetime allowed content that skewed more toward the Fifty Shades of Grey realm of sexual content. It had a lot to do with a very beautiful and masculine male custodian, who was often “mounted” by the randy females who worked in the office building he kept clean.

“Mounting” was the word of the evening. And all of this sex talk had me tucking my erection into my underroo waistband on more than one occasion.

The bar closed early, and we made our way to the subway station. I desperately wanted to ask Cath to come home with me, but knew that it would be uncool and unwise to expect Anne to travel home alone in the middle of the night. So when my train came, I hugged Cath long and hard, told her goodnight, and went home.

When I came above ground in Brooklyn, my phone chirped. Cath had texted me, saying I should have invited her over so that she could mount me. I explained my reasoning for not having done so, but expressed my desire that she would come over.

When she returned to Anne’s neck of the woods, Cath attempted to find a taxi. She was unsuccessful. And she couldn’t take the subway alone for the same reasons Anne couldn’t.

At this point, she turned to Uber, a company that had been reliable for me even after midnight on a school night, and that she had used a number of times in Chicago. The service had always been at least decent, and, more to the point: quick.

She tried for more than an hour to get a car to pick her up in Crown Heights, so that it could then take her to Bushwick (or Pound Town, amirite?!).

All of her efforts were for naught. She kept me abreast via text, and we both expressed our sexual frustrations. She tried Uber once more, and said she didn’t know what else to do.

I was just about to snap one off and go to bed disappointed at my inability to get mounted now OR EVER when Cath texted me.

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes. I just used this other app called Lyft, and a driver is on the way.”

Looks like you all just lost two clients, Uber.



*Uber is an organization that allows you to order cabs and car services via a mobile app.

**These names have been changed. I mean, who names a person “Cath” anymore?