I recently posted an FR where I was a bit wordy. I knew it was wrong and I needed the harsh reminder, but only self realization can fix issues.

I drive for Uber late Fridays and Saturdays. At first it was a curiosity but I came to see it as a source of reserve savings for survival during nuclear winter should that disaster occur.

I later figured out that driving primed young women around was an amazing source of abundance mentality. It was also a nice way to witness hypergamy, LMR, ASD, solipsism, etc. in the wild.

Last night:

Having decided that our vacation and my work schedule at home these past 2 weeks has put me in close proximity with her for too long (and following my slide back into purple haze,) I decided that I should drive. Here are the two fares that stuck out:

"Deanna"

Deanna isn't the subject here; she simply was the requestor. She was accompanied by her daughter and, who I discovered through listening, her best friend: "Lola." She is the subject here. The trip was a 40 minute ride from where we were. They were on evening gowns and done up. Forget Deanna... She was a 5 at best. Lola, who copped to being in high school when "Venus" by Bananarama was still getting radio time. That puts her about 10 years older than me. Regardless she was an easy 7-8 thanks to her tits and tight body.

I pronounce the destination street "chinook" correctly and she is impressed. She discovers I was in the Marine Corps. She immediately divulges that her dad was military. Me = Daddy.

Within 2 minutes everything I say is interesting and her kino and body language is happening; arm touches, hand brushes, she turns in her seat to face me.

Once we are off the freeway and on surface streets, I turn to her at one point following the year that song came out discussion and she asks how old I am.

"How old do you think I am?"

"Well you know this song and the year, but you look to young to be from our era..."

I turn the dome light on and turn to her.

"So..." She begins, trailing off, "oh wow your eyes are gorgeous."

I maintain the eye contact for a little longer (we were at a light.)

"I, uh... Um... Hehe... I forgot the question."

I repeated it. She guessed 30... I said 34. Now I knew her first line mental age cut off: 30. When I said "34," she says, "Deanna you need to see his eyes..."

"Yeah I saw'em." Her friend was not thrilled to be a part of this ride any more. Lola was seeing if her friend would offer a talk down on her behalf.

"So how did we get the handsome Uber driver?"

"Ugly uber driver was taken and this one suited me better."

We pulled up to her house. Her friend exited fast. She got out, but bent over to look at me again... And show me her cleavage. She stared at me again, "you do have a baby face... Those eyes get you in trouble."

"I do just fine but they might get you in trouble."

Now she knew I had kids but I can't remember if I told her I was married ever.

"That's what I mean. You should have my number."

I agreed and now have it. What I do with it is actually something I'm lost on.

"Colin"

Once again, Colin is the requester... Not the subject.

The subject is the girl(s). Up front was Nicole. Faux red-dye infused dark hair, a sharp nose, dark hawk-like eyes and a generous mouth; a gorgeous face. She was tall with well manicured hands. A HB7

Her friend, whose name evades me, was shorter, lighter hair, a more proportioned face, softer eyes... Classically pretty. HB8.

Now they both get +1 because they had thick Irish accents and Nicole was translating some things I said in gaelic. Call me weird, but that language from a woman's mouth is a big turn on for some reason. The accent too.

So they are asking me about me, where I'm from, whether I was married (yes) and have "little'uns" ( yes ) and Nicole ( upfront) asks how much it would cost to drive to Vegas. I gave the number and the round trip amount. (We'll say $2000)

"How about we give you $500 cash now and you take us to Vegas?"

"Why would I take $500 now when I can get 75% of $2000 next week?"

"But..." She grabs my hand on my gear shifter "...we could go down and tear shit up!" In thick Irish brogue. this girl is good...

The dudes in the car, not Irish, were notably not thrilled with this exchange.

I pull up to drop them off and Her friend went to shake my hand and, here we go again... "Your eyes are amazing..." In Irish brogue. I just held the stare.

"Yours are pretty nice too."

"Nicole you have to see his eyes!" Her friend was walking away at this point. "She's seen ginger eyes before", (I'm not a ginger but I have blue eyes.)

"She's over it, but you can keep looking." She paused in my car and her male companion was trying to drag her out.

I kept staring at her and smiling. As I was reviewing some stuff on my phone as they walked away, I saw her waving at me... As her male companion was pulling her backwards I just waved and yelled to call me if she needs a ride later.

She has no way to contact me directly.

Epilogue

When I returned home at 3am I fell asleep feeling bigger than yesterday. These two interactions reminded me that complacency leads to oneitis and abundance is the cure.

On a somewhat related note, she woke up with her hand on my cock. Being gone on a Saturday night (and she recognizes Uber as a threat vector for her) got her tingled enough to come to me for sex.