Duckie combed back his hair in its usual duck-tailed style and rubbed gel throughout. He was getting ready for yet another date. His nights had become fairly occupied with women of all sorts; Waitresses, Wall Street pioneers... It didn't really matter to them, not since he got a high-paying job at the magazine. Duckie knew he was technically using these girls, just like they used him. He meant no ill will to these girls. He never slept with them. He merely enjoyed watching them become enamored with him and more importantly his money, and then he could talk about all things, lie if he felt the need, and they never dared disagree. He knew they probably weren't even listening, preferring instead to shovel food robotically into their mouths as they stared at his eyes, Duckie's best feature. He figured he was making up for lost time; so much was wasted on a lost cause in high school.

He looked at himself in the full-length mirror in the room opposite the bath. He looked so much the same as he did then, yet his gentle outlook regarding the opposite sex had dissipated. The charm still oozed from him, and yet his heart was gone. Duckie enjoyed women and still looked to them in the same boyish curiosity, but he couldn't bring himself to get close. He was bitter, and cruel. All those inward changes, and yet he was only slightly taller and plagued with a five o' clock shadow. With a sigh, he took a last long look at himself, pointed at his Elvis poster, and headed off for a date with an intern.