dirty talk play menu

My Uber etiquette when sober is to be courteous, interested and engaged in some conversation. After drinking, I usually avoid talking/slurring to the Uber driver altogether, save for the obligatory “hi!” upon getting in. My rating has always been stellar so I assume this technique to be favoured.

This is different to the person I used to be. In my 20s after a night out I would have talked excitedly and openly with anyone who’d listen–usually, it was similarly drunk women in the toilets passing each other rolls of paper or commenting on their hair colour  (aka my new best friends). 

But my Uber rating dipped following this one particular ride. I was with my lover, sitting in the back and being driven home by a man who was old enough to be my father. 

It had been a great night fueled in part by delicious food, a steady stream of dirty martinis and finished with an amaro tasting. My lover and I were exchanging some hot AF, dirty text messages about what we were going to do when we got back home. 

I don’t remember saying a word in the Uber because #etiquette but when I woke up the next day I mulled for the best part of the morning over all the things I might have said under the glaze of multiple martinis pulsing through my blood. 

It just felt like I was missing something. Somewhere, on some street, in the 25-minute journey, I may have inadvertently slipped into a trusted, but private,  habit.

When I got my first job as a writer, one of my mentors told me the best way to edit my work was to read it out loud. You’re less likely to miss mistakes and more likely to add movement and rid yourself of unnecessary commas. I’ve been following her advice since.

I also like to talk to myself. Often. I don’t talk back so don’t be so judgy.

But was I performing my usual editing technique in the Uber? Did I mutter some of those wonderfully filthy words I was typing? Or did I read in silence but inflect some sexy sounds by adding an “ooh!” after I’d read the smutty sentence I’d just written? (If there is a prize for dirty talk/text, my humble self feels I’d be in with a pretty good chance for a podium place). 

My partner, while busy raving about the dirty messages in the Uber ride assured me that only the two of us had been privy to the smut being thrown back and forth via message, but my darling man’s memory is poor at best so the jury must discount his recollection altogether.

I grabbed my phone and scrolled through the messages. I was in awe at how many variations of “I want you to fuck me right now” I was able to come up with. I was even more impressed at my lack of spelling and grammatical errors.

For the rest of the day I had flashbacks, reliving what I might have said in front of an aging and sober dad-like figure (not, Daddy).

But would he really have marked me down for hearing some dirty talk? HE was eavesdropping and should have minded his own business! There was no nudity and I hadn’t committed the greatest sin of all which we know is vomiting. 

I guess I’ll just never know what the old man really thought. I push on with my ride-sharing etiquette and I will forever be honing my dirty talk skills. And so should you. Out loud. Just maybe not in an Uber.