What must it be like?

Procrastinating at Starbucks this afternoon, I'm sitting near this
young lady. (Have I mentioned how much I love my iPhone?) You can't
tell from this picture, but she's studying for the GREs. She's also
the epitome of "hot." Blonde, slim, full-breasted, snub-nosed, creamy-
tan perfect skin, chicly-garbed, impeccably groomed right down to her
pink pedicured toenails.

I can't imagine how different her experience of social interactions,
particularly with men, must routinely be from mine. I could envy her
youth and physical perfection, but on some odd level I'm profoundly
grateful that my life has never been complicated by being a living
embodiment of a cultural obsession.

Ancient of Days

Erm, that would be me.

It's my birthday; I'm so old I can hardly believe it. And I especially don't like the year-numbers that end in 9, I much prefer the round numbers.

How did I get to this age with my life in such disarray? Sheesh.

Or What

I'm so confused.

Yesterday I was entirely clear on this. Now, not so much.

It seems to me that he stayed to see me finish second tonight. I thought he was just waiting for his roommate to finish up, but the roommate busted out, and left, and he stayed. It seems to me that he was glad to give me another hug, which I freely admit I actively solicited. He checked to see if I would be playing again tomorrow night and did I want him to save me a seat.

Yes and yes.

I think I liked it better when I wasn't confused. Clarity is a brilliant thing. I don't need to be back on the hook over this, really I don't. I don't want to deal with ambivalence, his or mine.

Raise or fold, baby.

BAH

Apparently I'm completely delusional. The man is indifferent to my blandishments.

OK, so at least that's cleared up. You'd think by now I'd be used to this, but you know, it's still a big, fat drag.

Swoon

It's been a long time since I've enjoyed the benefits of an intimate relationship, both emotionally and physically. Since I broke up with A.F., I've basically been on my own.

Those of you with spouses or partners, those of you with active dating lives, may not recall what this is like. You may never have gone for months, years, without the benefits of touch. You may have forgotten how a hug can be like water in the desert, or how just brushing against someone's arm can be incredibly comforting and exciting at the same time. The fact is, I am genuinely starved for physical contact. It's gotten to the point where I may have to start going to a massage therapist regularly just to experience human touch.

In the meantime, there is this man.

In the past, I've been prone to powerful crushes on inappropriate persons. I'd like to think that years of expensive therapy helped me get to grips with that, and that I'm over the worst of it. Sadly, however, I remain stubbornly attracted to men who are younger than I am, and rather thoroughly unattracted to those who are my age or older (or look it, anyway). What can I say? It's an aesthetic thing, mostly. As I'm routinely taken for 10 or more years younger than I am (although I doubt that will last much longer), I can kind of get away with it.

Anyway. There's this man who I play poker with at one of the restaurant venues (a free game, not my league). He's younger than I am, by 10 years at least. He looks a bit like Howie Mandel. He's shorter than I am, he smokes like a chimney, and drinks a lot. I rather suspect we have nothing in common but poker. Nonetheless, I find him very attractive.

Why, you ask?

Well, I actually think he's handsome, he has beautiful eyes, but that's not the main thing. The main thing is that, over time, we've built up a low-key flirtation. Now, when we sit next to each other at a table, our forearms will touch throughout most of the evening. Most people maintain their physical space and distance at the poker table. But he doesn't move away and I don't move away. I am totally convinced that this is tacit collusion on both our parts. This is not the sort of thing that happens by accident between men and women. I've looked for it, and no one else does this.

And the thing is, I find it devastatingly erotic. You have no idea.

Tonight, we had a misunderstanding over some action in the poker tournament. He moved his arm away. I was crushed. He was out shortly thereafter, and he went to join a woman at another table who had earlier bought him some drinks. I felt despair; I was suffocating with jealousy. I tried to concentrate on my game, but I could see them in the background laughing and chatting.

I watched her settle her bill. I watched him settle his bill. I expected to see them leave together, or at least sequentially. Just then I busted out of the game myself. I left the table just as this man was also moving away from the bar. He came up to me. He was still angry and, it turned out, disappointed with me. We talked about it, and I explained that it was truly a misunderstanding. I was glad that he wanted to talk about it, and glad to have an opportunity to clear it up. I think he believed me, and I think he heard me when I said I really didn't want him to be angry with me. And then we hugged.

It was a great hug. (Now maybe I'm at the stage when ANY hug is a great hug, but I don't think so. Some people are distinctly better huggers than others. Some are prissy. Some are too tentative. Some are grinders *ew* when that stage has not been reached. Some are top-only, with plenty of airspace. And some are just right. Like this one: full contact, unexpectedly ~ delightfully! ~ strong and snug, but not suffocating or transgressive.) I wish it had lasted 3 times as long.

So we "made up," I guess. And determined, after reviewing our respective playing schedules, that we would see one another next Monday. And he said he'd save me a seat. I touched him on the shoulder one last time, he gave me a side hug. And I left. Maybe he went home with the other woman after I was gone. But I doubt it.

On the way home I realized I'd arranged to have dinner with a friend on Monday.

I've just fired off an email asking her if we could reschedule. Because, embarassing as it is to admit this, I can't stand the idea that I would miss an opportunity to touch this man.

That's how parched I am, people. Pity me.

The Lame Game

Just the entertaining ones:

Witness protection program: Pascale Frame
Punk Rock Name: Pascale Procrastination
Singer-Songwriter Name: Rachel Berlin (it was longer than 5 years ago)
Science Fiction Name: Gap J. Jill (I'm in my PJs, what can I say?)
Trust Fund Name: Eleanor Hepburn-Morse (had to honor my shadow rep, DC VOTING RIGHTS NOW!!)

I really like Rachel Berlin, and Gap J. Jill would make a good science fiction author pseudonym.

Via AKMA, from CatandGirl.

I get it now

After a very frustrating home cash game last night I finally understood what's going on with most of the people I run into in pub poker games, low-limit cash games, and tourneys. I have a new perspective to help me deal with the variance, the donk play, and the sometimes appalling misbehavior of participants.

It's very simple: they are not really primarily poker-players, they are gamblers who play poker. It's that easy.

They are not interested in the subtle exchange of meaning and deception, the conversation implicit in bets carried out over the course of a session or mulitple sessions. They are not interested in strategy and matching wits. They don't really think about what they're doing. They aren't actually paying attention in any meaningful way (the notion of cultivating a table image amongst these folks is laughable).

They are interested in buying a lottery ticket and getting lucky. So they limp, and if their random hand hits, they'll bet. If they're stupid gamblers, they'll call all the way to the river hoping to get lucky. They'll shove, because that's what they see on TV, and being aggressive and bullying people is a rush, and hey, they won the blinds with a 2000% overbet, so it's all good, or your call with QQ gets cracked by their 3 5 os and they're poker geniuses. They are having FUN, the same kind of fun that you can have at an amusement park ride.

I play poker because the edge of uncertainty provided by chance adds a piquant flavor to what is, at heart, a game of math and psychology. I don't play roulette, I don't play craps, I don't play slots... I only buy lottery tickets when the jackpot is so huge it seems dopey not to (I know, I know). I play poker because I like to think, I like to observe people, and I enjoy having my skills tested. Wagering on a coin flip holds absolutely no charms for me. (Last night, I watched a guy who was down a couple of hundred dollars beg anyone to wager $100 on a cut of the cards. WTF????)

But I am beginning at last to appreciate the fact that MOST PEOPLE who play poker are, in fact, primarily gamblers. Most gamblers, ultimately, care only about the adrenaline rush associated with risk and the endorphin reward that comes with a positive payoff. They are not (snob alert!) artists, the way the true greats of poker most certainly are, and I myself aspire to be. This is why I long for the day when I can move up in stakes and sit at tables with people who really know and play the game in a deep way.

Most people I encounter in casual games are just having relatively mindless fun. That's fine, but it greatly increases the effects of variance, and it's just not as interesting to me. I'm really glad to have found my home league, where at least a majority of the players are actual students of the game.

It is no coincidence whatsoever that I have had my greatest successes in higher-stakes games. With the obvious exception of really rich people who don't give a damn, most people who play high stakes games actually have invested some time and effort into learning to play well.

Now that I really "get" what's going on, I think it's going to get a lot easier to change gears and to tolerate the nonsense and out-and-out BS I see on a regular basis. It's okay. These guys are not really playing the same game I am. I'll adjust my game if I think I'll be able to take their money over the short-run for which I'll actually be able to tolerate the BS before I totally lose interest. It not, if I know the aggravation is going to far outweigh any profit or pleasure from the game... well, I'll move on. I'll confine my play to environments where I'll find it either financially or intellectually/emotionally/psychologically rewarding, or ~ preferably ~ both.

I know I can find those games, both online and FTF. I just have to be willing to be more selective. And now I'm really clear on what I'm looking for, which is always a good thing.