My Uber driver grabs my phone (still logged into my Facebook account), and began drafting up a message. (Note: different names are used in this story for the sake of privacy).

"What are you writing?"

He peers at me through the rearview mirror. "Just be patient, you'll see soon enough. Here, you thirsty?" He hands me a bottle of water, and continues typing away. I wince each time his fingers pad against the screen, simultaneously fascinated and afraid of what he might be writing.

I huff, crossing my arms like a dissatisfied toddler. Momentarily, he takes his gaze off my phone and sighs.

"You've been talking about the kid all night, just let me finish what you started. I promise you, this is a good idea."

I nod warily, and motion for him to proceed. He grins manically, and continues. I sneak a peek at the chat box, now aggressively bright against the dark panels of his car, and consider walking home next time.

Finally, after what seems like hours, he begins to read aloud.

"Mark,

Grace knows she messed up. She's distraught over the fact that she was inconsiderate toward your feelings for her. She's a sweet girl who wants to make right by you. You should let someone apologize to you. No determined outcome. Just a meet and greet, cool? Do it. Don't be a jerk; let's turn around this bad rap that guys have. I'm rooting for you, bruh.

Best,

Drake (big brother)"

I cringe between each of his remarks, but feel strangely grateful. In five minutes, he caused months of tiptoeing around the subject to come to an abrupt, albeit unconventional end. I tell him I'm nervous, and he tells me to move up to the front seat.

I relent, and he greets me with a jar of Planter's Peanuts.

"Time to sober up, missy," he grins.

We sit crowded together, waiting for Mark to read my message.

"It's SEEN!" he remarks, gesturing excitedly. With his face lit up by my phone, Drake resembles something of a happy, if not slightly deranged, life coach. It occurred to me that as an observer, he had taken more of an interest in my life than those actually in it. He grasped onto my phone, the worn plastic case slightly askew, both of us anticipating Mark's response.

Five, 10 minutes and finally 30 minutes go by without a response. Drake stayed with me that night in the parking lot, both of us leaned against the scratchy seats of his Prius, munching on staling peanuts. While we waited for a response, I gathered the courage to ask the obvious.

"Why me? Why tonight?"

He told me about a girl he loved, who he wished would love him back. They had only dated for a few months when he was 18, but he was certain she was the one. Then one day, her disinterest reached its peak, and she ended things. He eventually confessed to me he had always been too scared to demand answers, and lived to regret it. Hijacking my phone was an attempt to vicariously right his wrongs.

In that moment, I felt a closer connection to him than I had with my circle of friends. He had seen me at my worst, and chose to help me the only way he knew how.

Then, our hopes were realized. Mark responded, and I decided it was time to let go of my new friend and my help myself for a change.

I didn't "get the guy" that night, but I got something better. Through Drake, I realized my previous relationships had been characterized by sloppy lies, late nights and miles of geographical and emotional distance. I realized I had loved Mark because it felt like the safest thing to do. Through his act of defiance, Drake had forced me to be honest about my intentions. That night, like others before it, I wanted nothing more than a security blanket. Something or someone to ground me and remind me I was alive. In the vulnerability caused by my honesty, I began to see dating in an entirely different light. I was lonely and Mark was there as a metaphor for stability that left me with an immeasurable feeling of loss. I chose to hold onto this feeling, but was now ready to let go. After all, love born out of loneliness might not be love at all.