A couple of weeks ago, I took the train into L.A. and caught an Uber from the Burbank Amtrak Station. During the twenty-five-minute ride to my destination, my driver and I ended up having a straight-to-the-heart conversation about his love life—or, more accurately, his lack of one.

It started innocently enough. He asked about my family, and after I gave him a quick rundown, I asked, “Are you married?”

“No,” he said. “No girlfriend, either.”

He was a handsome young man, so I was surprised to hear that. “Is that how you want it?” I asked, thinking maybe he preferred the single life.

“No,” he said. “My idea of happiness is being married with a house full of kids.”

“So being alone isn’t much fun,” I said.

“Not at all. In fact, just last night, I walked into my empty apartment and realized just how lonely I am.”

That went straight to my heart.

He went on to tell me he was 41, Armenian, and that the Armenian women he had dated weren’t impressed that he drove for Uber. They had made it clear he couldn’t offer the kind of lifestyle they were looking for.

“Then you need to look elsewhere,” I said. “Love isn’t about how much money someone makes. It’s about finding someone you care about so deeply that you don’t want to be without them. Together, you build the life you both want.”

He nodded. “That’s what I always thought.”

Our conversation then went to online dating. I told him that my daughter, Rachael, and her partner, Andrew, had met that way and were perfect for each other. “Would you consider someone who wasn’t Armenian?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m pretty open to anyone who might be interested in me.”

I thought about how hard it can be for young people these days to find the right person. “You know, my husband is five years younger than I am. You might try dating someone a year or two older. They might really appreciate who you are.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your husband is five years younger?”

“Yes, and he says that as we’re aging, he’s getting older and I’m getting younger.”

That made him laugh.

By the end of the ride, we had agreed: he’d give online dating another shot—and cast a wider net when he did. “The right woman is out there right now,” I said, “just waiting for you.”

As I was getting out of the car, I remembered, “Oh wait—I almost forgot to give you a tip.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to tip me. You’ve already given me all kinds of tips I’m actually going to use.”

Of course, I tipped him anyway.

I truly hope that sweet, sensitive, and handsome young man finds the woman he’s dreaming of. I have no doubt he’ll make a wonderful husband.