I know this will not come as a shock to any
of you heterosexuals out there. However, women just don’t understand
poker. Some women have come to terms with the fact that their husbands
and/or boyfriends are serious poker players. They still don’t
understand. The only exemption is the avid female poker player. The
avid female poker player is not a chick who learned to play so she
could spend more time with her boyfriend. An avid female player is one
that treats the game like her male counterparts do. It is an event to
play. When you are married with kids, it’s a special event.
I always wait until the kids are in bed to play poker online. My
wife doesn’t want poker interfering with the relationship with my kids.
She is right. These are special times. The doctor said John is
projected to be around 6’5” and 225 lbs. I won’t always be able to hold
him in my lap and lift him in the air like a plane. Well, the
projection wasn’t from the doctor as much as some gypsy lady reading my
tarot cards. Well, they weren’t “my” tarot cards. The gypsy was blind
and the lady before me got up early. From her personal hygiene I could
tell that sight wasn’t the only sense the gypsy was missing. I quietly
sat down and got some cards read for free. The important thing is that
I’m a dedicated father. I won’t be distracted by poker during family
time. So I put the kids in bed around 4:30pm. It’s more like 5pm if I
feed them dinner.
Well, the other night, I was playing poker in the living room. My
wife asked me to get up and get her a drink. I told her I would in a
minute when I could fold a hand. She got a disgusted look on her face
and got up to serve herself. Imagine the inconvenience. “Honey, don’t
open the Dr. Pepper. I let John play with it and he shook it up pretty
good.” The words are still hanging in the air, when I look over. She
had already opened the bottle. Well, this Doctor had some premature
“excitement” issues, if you will. He spewed himself all over the
kitchen. My wife quickly dropped the bottle in the sink. This is where
it got interesting.
I had AQ suited and the flop came with 2 Queens. I wasn’t about to
leave. “I’ll be there in a second.” I never really had the intention,
but thought it sounded nice. Nice sounds are hard to come by in my
house, especially with all the crying and complaining. Evidently it is
hard to sleep with the sun shining through the blinds onto your face.
Kids!
Next thing I know, Debbie is standing over me. I don’t play well
with people looking over my shoulder. She says, “Can I have that
pillow?” “Sure.” She reaches behind me and pulls the pillow out from my
chair. She had to pull pretty hard because my ass had the pillow
pinned. The pillow comes free and goes flying. It knocks her drink off
the end table. About 36 ounces of flat Dr. Pepper soaks the sofa and
carpet. She screams out words not allowed in mixed company and stomps
off to the kitchen. Then she cries out, “Nevermind! I’ll get it!”
I know I already wrote “this is where it got interesting”.
Disregard that, and know that this is where it “really” got
interesting. Coming off the frustration of losing my set of Queens to a
full house (and a huge pile of chips), I replied. “Good! You’re the one
that spilt the drink!” To be honest, there may have been some expletive
commentary of my own in that statement.
You ever been sitting in a room and just had this feeling come over
you? The feeling that someone is watching you? Then you look up and
sure enough, there is someone staring. Well, this was nothing like
that. This was more like when you’re about to hit a car that pulled out
in front of you and all you can say to yourself is “OH, SHIT!” The
inevitable marriage collusion! I looked up and she was walking back to
the living room armed with paper towels and a wet wash cloth. The look
she gave me would have been sexy if she was walking toward the bed.
However, she wouldn’t have been carrying the wash cloth. Just the paper
towels.
I turned my attention back toward the screen. I believe her
Superwoman heat vision continued to burn my optic nerve behind my eye,
only now it was via my temple. As she was cleaning the spill she
exclaimed that I was a couple different body parts. One time I was even
a dismembered body part. It wasn’t really that effective until she
informed me of the manner in which she planned on removing it. Then I
said, “You just don’t understand poker!” I don’t know if it was the
images she created describing the dismembering, but for some reason my
voice cracked in the middle of that statement. That is what we married
folks refer to as a “tell”. She knew I was bluffing.
The night changed course. I spent the rest of the evening playing
with my recently bedroom-paroled children. We did play poker. Well, not
so much “poker” as card games. Well, not so much “card games” as
memory. No matter how many hands I played, the best I ever got was a
pair. The night was not lost at the expense of my poker experience. I
realized the most important rule of poker. Unfortunately it has never
been talked about on this forum.
A Jackass high flush loses to a single card. The Queen!
