1, My Address, My Street, New York City, NY, USA
Mon - Sat: 9:00am - 8:00pm
Like Dexter, I Also Have a Dark Passenger
Like Dexter, I Also Have a Dark Passenger

Like Dexter, I Also Have a Dark Passenger

"I'm holding nothing back!"

"I call!"

He shows me his straight. I filth my 2 sets in dis­gust. It isn't so much that I got out­played. That doesn't annoy me to an extreme. What DOES irritate me is the point at which I make a strong strategy en route to the club, yet when I arrive, my dim pas­sen­ger dominates and the blueprint꽁머니 goes out the entryway. It's like I am two peo­ple. From one perspective, I am a respon­si­ble father and hus­band. Patient, cre­ative and fru­gal. Then again, I am an aggres­sive poker player - impa­tient, impul­sive and some­times careless.

Alright, perhaps my com­par­i­son to Dex­ter is an exag­ger­a­tion. All things considered, its been a very long time since I hacked up some shrewd fella and tossed his body parts in the sea.

I have a similar con­ver­sa­tion each time I go to the gambling club. "Today I will play tight. No fish­ing. Just play posi­tion. Crease draws when I don't have the chances. Return home when I lose my edge. Try not to go on slant when I get a terrible beat. Also, most impor­tantly, FOLD WHEN I KNOW I AM BEAT!" I search in the mir­ror. Advise myself that I am in charge.

Then I get to the gambling club, quick stroll to the felt and thud down my chips and enthusiastically anticipate my most memorable Christ­mas present. 2 min­utes later, every one of my chips are in the mid­dle. 3 way activity and I am on the nut flush draw on the lemon. I nearly have chances and con­vince myself this is a decent spot to get everything in. 30 sec­onds later.....I am on slant, call­ing for chips and prepared to gam­ble. Very much like that, enter my dim pas­sen­ger. It doesn't take long until, I have lost my sec­ond purchase in. Right now, I take a gander at my telephone and real­ize I have been hanging around for just 75 min­utes. Luck­ily the wall­pa­per on my iPhone is a pic­ture of my child. In a split second I snap back. My horns withdraw, my teeth retreat, my tail dis­ap­pears and I am myself once more. I breath profoundly and advise myself that I am not characterized by my last hand of poker.

I'm generally sur­prised when my clouded side emerges, however I have come to be grate­ful for him also. I use him as a mea­sure for my per­sonal development. The day I can take a beat­ing and shake it off will be the day I have come to a higher degree of con­scious­ness. It might sound a piece meta­phys­i­cal, however that is one of the rea­sons I play poker.

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