DrStrange
4 of a Kind
I was inspired to write this story by another thread . . . .
So it is 1994 and I am living with the woman who will shortly become my wife. It is Friday night and I have gone to play cards. She knows I play in a twice a month poker game at an urban country club in Houston. Other than that, she doesn't have a clue how much money is at risk or if I win or lose. (and I don't know how she really feels about such things.)
I come rolling in about 1AM and she is still up (hours after she typically goes to bed), crying and upset. I am thinking that trouble is coming but not quite sure what form it will take. Much to my surprise she makes small talk. How was work? Did you eat dinner? Was it good? The conversation does not match the 1 am crying girlfriend picture.
So I ask, "why are you crying? And still up way past your bed time?"
She says, "please don't be mad." I immediately wonder if she had a post break up meeting with the previous boy friend, I know they were still close.
She pulls out a nice box and opens it - there is a NICE fancy gold rope chain inside. She says "I know we don't have the money for this, but I just couldn't say no."
I ask how much, she says $1,800. I start pulling $100 bills out of my pocket while saying the poker gods must have know she needed that chain (I had won about $2,200 that night). The night ends on a really good note.
Next morning she asks how much money we play for. She was thinking pocket change not folding money. I tell her that I take $1,000 to the game and show my money clip. Some nights I win, some nights I lose but I still have the $1,000 I started with and haven't been to an ATM since the 1980's. There will be nights the Poker Gods spit on me, but I get lots more love than spit . . .
She wonders how anyone could be so lucky and I explain that skill makes all the difference - luck is an illusion so the losing players have hope and keep playing. (I was a consulting statistician at the time, so it is easy for her to see that my math skills could plausibly explain everything.)
And that was it, she was sold on the benefits of my poker nights. We still joke fondly about her 'gift from the Poker Gods'.
Now days, the issue about poker night is her fear I'll die on the drive home. Her solution? You host, play with your nice chips and she will cook tasty treats for the crew. Works like a charm.
DrStrange
So it is 1994 and I am living with the woman who will shortly become my wife. It is Friday night and I have gone to play cards. She knows I play in a twice a month poker game at an urban country club in Houston. Other than that, she doesn't have a clue how much money is at risk or if I win or lose. (and I don't know how she really feels about such things.)
I come rolling in about 1AM and she is still up (hours after she typically goes to bed), crying and upset. I am thinking that trouble is coming but not quite sure what form it will take. Much to my surprise she makes small talk. How was work? Did you eat dinner? Was it good? The conversation does not match the 1 am crying girlfriend picture.
So I ask, "why are you crying? And still up way past your bed time?"
She says, "please don't be mad." I immediately wonder if she had a post break up meeting with the previous boy friend, I know they were still close.
She pulls out a nice box and opens it - there is a NICE fancy gold rope chain inside. She says "I know we don't have the money for this, but I just couldn't say no."
I ask how much, she says $1,800. I start pulling $100 bills out of my pocket while saying the poker gods must have know she needed that chain (I had won about $2,200 that night). The night ends on a really good note.
Next morning she asks how much money we play for. She was thinking pocket change not folding money. I tell her that I take $1,000 to the game and show my money clip. Some nights I win, some nights I lose but I still have the $1,000 I started with and haven't been to an ATM since the 1980's. There will be nights the Poker Gods spit on me, but I get lots more love than spit . . .
She wonders how anyone could be so lucky and I explain that skill makes all the difference - luck is an illusion so the losing players have hope and keep playing. (I was a consulting statistician at the time, so it is easy for her to see that my math skills could plausibly explain everything.)
And that was it, she was sold on the benefits of my poker nights. We still joke fondly about her 'gift from the Poker Gods'.
Now days, the issue about poker night is her fear I'll die on the drive home. Her solution? You host, play with your nice chips and she will cook tasty treats for the crew. Works like a charm.
DrStrange