Monday, May 31, 2010

Sugar and spice

To shortcut the stress of writing a first post, I will direct your attention to hammeredquads.blogspot.com. There you may find the history of my current position and the context launching this blog. I'll give you a couple minutes to go ahead and do that...


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Dusting of hands and let us begin.

I have made quite a deal of playing poker as a female, and should probably offer some illustration of such a possibly questionable presumption. After all, we are basking in the relative glory of the post-feminist liberation movement, so it might come as a shock to some of the more sheltered among us that such things might still be an issue. So, I will specify that there is in fact relatively little issue online since most of the players assume that they are playing all males anyway (although, it strikes me as completely absurd that I am constantly addressed as sir or man when my screen name includes the French delicacy, "fleur"...). On the rare occasion that sex is acknowledged and becomes an issue, it is in the context of over the top flirting peculiar to the anonymity of online chat spaces. Of course, I find this just as irritating as what occurs when I step into a live poker room, perhaps even more so since I can't exploit any real profit from the online flaw whereas profit abounds in live games. Case in point:

After a handful of ventures into casinos, I had already become used to the "gentlemen" to either side of me showing me their cards and "educating" the little miss at the table. All of which was lovely since the only bad thing about poker is having to guess what someone has. What I had not truly experienced was what I would call the "Big Slick" kinda guy. The one that sees a young woman sit down and imagines that all of her assets are as good as his. This piece of my education in the live poker world was provided at a casino in Oklahoma City. As soon as I sat down, I looked across from me and found the greasiest, shiniest specimen of male chauvinism I have ever had the misfortune to share such a close space with...and I spent four years among officers and enlisted alike trying to attain such heights. Anyway, he immediately let me know his assessment of me by announcing to the table that "they didn't want to mess with this one," delivered with a wink of his fat eyelids in my direction. Let me translate: around a poker table, this loosely means "fresh meat; have at 'er boys." To which, I gave my customary smile that speaks all sincerity but hides lethality in the corners. About half an hour later, he was no longer winking and his sheen was enhanced by a thin layer of sweat. He was beginning to see through the sweet facade as his chips slowly accrued on my side of the table. We got involved in a hand together, which was not a rarity, but which held the import of a line being drawn in the sand. I could sense in every line of his tensing posture that this was the hand he was going to make his stand with. Which was fine by me, because I had just flopped a monster and I was planning to eat this slimy chump for dessert. I didn't even have to say please and the lout threw his last chip in; me gleefully adding my own to the pile. He paled noticeably seeing my confidence and knowing at this point that I was no innocent to the game and would know when I had him where I wanted him. His eyes were glued to the table when the next card came down, and I saw the relaxing of his shoulders that meant he had found his miracle. Throwing over his two cards, he showed a hand that had found one of two cards in the deck that could beat my own. As he drew the massive pile of chips towards him, he gave me a look that couldn't have said more clearly, "That's why you don't play with the big boys, sweetie." His recently rewarded foolishness was shaken visibly, however, as this little sweetie pulled two more large bills from my pocket and asked the dealer for a refresh. Unfortunately, luck is not much of a lady or at least not one with a sense of loyalty to her own, and he got away with his sense of superiority in tact. Then again, it is to my benefit that he and all his kind are allowed to exist in such large numbers in this profession. So here's to all the cretins out there and may you have the luck of avoiding me and my kind.