-The Body Could be a String Section-

Mike got his chance. Sort of.

Mandy consented to a movie, and it's enough to put a spring into his habitually downtrodden gait. Ever since, he's begun to solicit advice at the same rate that he rejects it.

It happened after I'd pulled an all-nighter, and attended the second of two 3-hour seminars. I should have gone home immediately and slept, it's not like I have health insurance. But Mike insisted, said it was his birthday -- and I'm too accommodating. And I'm the one with the car. Which is central to this tale, since it was on this jaunt he identified the object of his affection, the aforementioned Mandy, who was waiting for a late bus.

Let me make it clear that I was not in control, even though my hands had the wheel. Still, I'm willing to take the girl back to her home, to help my friend "court" someone he's interested in. So when he hops out at her place and holds a whispered conversation, I turn a loop and wait out of earshot. It takes a surprisingly long time, but when he comes back he's scrabbling for a piece of paper and taking a phone number.

When we leave, I'm shocked to find he isn't giddy with excitement. I think I would be turning cartwheels no matter how tired I was at the moment. The words coming out of his mouth are about dating strategies, I think. What to do next. When to invite her over. How to deal with his house's limitations.

His driver is tired, and does not want to be driving. I think of this exciting new beginning for Mike and I remember how terrible my own prospects are.

I am too accommodating.

When I return, my roommate is giddy over a new man.
It's too much. The only two people I speak more than perfunctory small talk with today, and they've both made love connections.

I nod patiently at my roommate's monologue for awhile, trying to be happy for her. She's the recipient of my last forced smile of the day, and I go to bed.
Twang
But not before I painfully blow a capillary in my right eye.