OPINION: Poker? I Know Her Too Well
There was a time when I didn’t know poker very well. I’d heard of her, sure. Maybe even flirted with the idea of getting to know her better on a Saturday night with friends. But now? Now I know her too well. Intimately. Obsessively. The way an abandoned lighthouse keeper knows the tides—constantly watching, always at their mercy.
At first, it was harmless fun. A few hands here, a couple of chips there. A flirty wink from the dealer, a well-timed bluff—who could resist? But that’s the thing about poker. She reels you in like a charming stranger at a bar, all glitz and glamour, whispering sweet promises of easy money and calculated risks. What she doesn’t tell you is that the house always wins, and you, my friend, are the house’s favorite fool.
The first time I lost, I told myself it was an investment. "Bad beat," I muttered, shoving another hundred onto the table. The second time? Just bad luck. By the fifth, I had developed a keen sense of self-delusion, convinced that I was one hand away from turning it all around. That’s the magic of poker: she lets you win just often enough to keep you hooked, like an ex who texts you at 2 AM just to remind you she exists.
Before I knew it, poker and I were inseparable. I started speaking her language fluently—flop, turn, river, bankroll, tilt. I started seeing pocket aces in my dreams. I started believing in the heart of the cards, which, as it turns out, is the exact moment you should seek professional help.
The worst part? She follows you everywhere. Poker isn’t just a game—it’s a mindset. You start treating real life like a high-stakes tournament. Is that job interview worth going all-in? Can you bluff your way through rent this month? You find yourself muttering, "I’ll call," when asked if you want fries with that, and suddenly you realize, maybe—just maybe—you have a problem.
So here I am, writing this from the dimly lit backroom of a strip-mall poker hall, nursing a warm beer and the cold realization that my rent money is currently in the chip stack of a man who calls himself "Big Tony."
If you see poker, tell her I need some space. Maybe a break. At least until next Tuesday’s tournament.
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