you could tell he wanted to cry

but theres no crying in my car

also no barfing

traffic is also banned

fuck you, respectfully.

his name was john and he lived in one of the newer nicer apartments in hollywood where we were headed

we were downtown and you could tell he was gonna cry

so i said, spit it out. youre among friends, whats the problem?

my friend set me up with someone she knew, he said back there, looking out the window with a pout of disbelief

he wore a perfectly fine blazer. shaved. cologned. was he korean? chinese? we never got there.

as soon as we sat down, she said, i have to be honest with you john, youre not my type.

you dodged a bullet bro, i said, supportively.

but she was exactly my type, he sighed.

you want someone that negative, hello?

negative? he asked. you think she was being negative? she was being honest. blunt. direct. i love that.

yeah, but how the hell does she know youre not her type? from looks? your aroma? your $50 haircut? what, does she hates blazers?

i hate blazers, he said

and then he fucking almost started to cry

YO! i said, switching over to full self-driving mode now that we were safely on the freeway.

if you loved her so much, why didnt you fight back?

bringing him back to earth

and away from those annoying “feelings”

ugh

i dont know, he said, thinking about it. i was just stunned. tongue-tied. what do you say? who prepares for that? and what if she was right? who am i to say she’s not right? who am i when it comes down to it?

i thought about some good comebacks to myself quietly. old me would have given him a few for next time. but there are no next times. people say wild shit once-a-year that are shocking. either youre down for a duel or not. john’s not that guy.

i also stopped myself from saying she was challenging you bro. she wanted a hot little joust. she wanted to play with her food before she ate it. she wanted someone who would push back, not just lie there like a starfish.

old me woulda said all of that. old me thought, i could buy the world a coke and teach it how to live in harmony. old me was a dummy. so i took over for the robot car and got off on echo park blvd to avoid the backup on the 101.

before i knew it, he was letting it sink in and the sobbing was bubbling.

what do i do? he asked himself quietly. more to his doubts than to me.

knowing where he lived i asked, what do you do that you live in that tower?

im a programmer.

like you write code?

yeah. computers, he sniffed.

and maybe because i hate people crying so much that i was ready to receive the inspiration from the angels,

and there it was

i said, heres what you do. you get home and make a dating app called Pity Fuck

what? he asked sharply

this city is huge bro. youre telling me there arent both men and women who couldnt use someone just throwing them a bone every now and then?

i mean, i couldn't, he stuttered in the dark back there

im not talking about you. im talking about LA, give the people a way to connect. let them help each other out. dont you feel good when you do a little favor? brand it as: no pressure, no commitment, no questions. 15 minutes.

looking in my rear view i could see him crack a little smile as we got on sunset heading west.

because life is crazy, i continued, if it's really good they’ll probably do it again the next week. before you know it, they're married.

and look at you john. you made it happen. you turned this town’s frown upside down. out of sorrow comes joy.

he said awkwardly, from shit and a seed, grows a tree.

i laughed, precisely, john.

then i told siri to play some sabrina carpenter and got his weepy-ass home.

$9 tip