So Don’t Answer Girl calls me tonight after midnight. She has a job interview in the morning and doesn’t have bus fare to get there. I’m exhausted and I have an awesome parking space right in front of my apartment that it took me five minutes to wedge myself into that I don’t want to give up, but I get up and drive half way across town to give her bus fare.
I’m worried about her, so after I give her the money, I put my hands on her shoulders and say a prayer for her, out loud in the lobby of her apartment building.
Now, a couple of short years ago, had she called me in the middle of the night, I probably would not have picked up the phone (hence, the nickname: Don’t Answer Girl). Had I picked up and driven all the way over there, there’d be no way in hell I wouldn’t be fucking her right now. Tonight, instead of making her fuck me for bus fare, I prayed with her and went home.