Happiness is a Little Asian Man

I do not have any money. I am living entirely off student loans. But every week I spend $15, including tip, on a manicure. I do not care about having meticulous nails as much as this habit might suggest. Previous to this point, I got pedicures about once every two months and hardly ever got manicures. But then I discovered heaven only 3 miles from my house. The manicures are average but then, while I'm drying, an elderly Asian man comes over, says hello, and places his hands on my shoulders. And I immediately feel my entire body melt. And then he starts massaging and it's like someone has finally come along who knows exactly what I need, exactly what I've always been looking for, and exactly what I need to sustain me through another week. I am not kidding, it's that good. So good that I have to fight the urge to moan outloud or remove my top and ask him to do my lower back. For a brief time, I close my eyes and imagine what life would be like if I turned around and asked this little elderly Asian man to run away with me. Because I NEED him in my life. Then though I realize he likely isn't that attractive naked and we don't speak the same language and it probably wouldn't work out. The point though is that once a week for approximately 5 minutes my brain slows down, my shoulders relax and my logical, rational brain lets go. For that, $15/week seems like a bargain.