For better or worse, I view the world as one big chess board and my life as a semi-complicated game of chess. And as a chess player, it behooves me to always be looking three, four or five moves ahead. A byproduct of my viewing life as a game of chess is I tend to psychoanalyze people.

This way of thinking has both advantages and disadvantages.

For example, when I drive, I’m constantly anticipating possible acts of stupidity by my fellow drivers. By anticipating stupidity, I’m able to quickly react when an act of stupidity, inevitably, occurs. This “watch out for stupid” method of driving has helped keep me, knock on wood, safe.

However, on the flip side, this also partly explains why I am so bad with directions. Because I’m preoccupied with my fellow drivers, I’m not paying attention to things such as street names, landmarks or where the heck I’m going.

The latest example occurred this past weekend. I can’t tell if my psychoanalysis is an astute observation or the rambling thoughts of a madman. Maybe you all can give me some feedback.

For lunch on Saturday, I stopped by Wendy’s drive-thru. After giving my order, I drive up to the first window to pay.

Early 20s, female employee: “Nice car. That’ll be $8.62.”
Me: “Thanks.” (hands her my credit card)

Most guys — okay, every guy except me — would view the employee’s “nice car” comment one of three ways:

• “It was an idle comment that meant nothing.”
• “She must be a fan of Ford Mustangs.”
• “She digs me.”

How did I, Mr. Psychoanalysis, take the comment?

• “She is a gold digger.”
• “Get your food and run.”
• “Don’t look back.”

Look, I realize it is hypocritical to think negatively towards someone who has the audacity to like my car when the sole reason I bought the thing in the first place was because I liked it.

This is just how my brain works. I hear those two words — “nice car” — and I analyze them. Those words, spoken by a complete stranger, give insight into what she values: material possessions. It was her tell.

We all have tells. A poker player might let you know he’s bluffing by nervously tapping his finger. A crazy person might let you know he’s crazy by jumping up and down on your couch. And a gold digger might let you know she’s a gold digger by having “nice car” be one of the first thing she says you.

The problem, of course, is that in this instance there simply isn’t enough information for me to make this kind of snap judgment. If the girl wanted to say something to me, it’s not like she had a ton of options:

• “Nice…upper torso.”
• “So, you like hamburgers?”
• “I have a Visa card, too.”
• “What kind of conditioner do you use?”
• “Think it will rain tomorrow?”
• “What’s your sign?”
• “What’s your take on the subprime mortgage crisis?”

With the evidence at hand, I’ve decided to give the girl a break. She’s not a gold digger — she’s just someone who complimented a vehicle owned by someone who may or may not be insane.

I think the “why am I still single?” puzzle is slowly coming together.