Mar
17
When I was a kid, my mom used to take my brothers and I to the local library to pick out books to read. Most of the time, we got the usual stuff: kids’ stories, picture books, and some VHS videos.
Once in a while, however, I deviated from this pattern and borrowed card trick books and gambling guides. I was intrigued by Blackjack and the ways in which top players gained an advantage by counting cards.
Alas, at age 12, I wasn’t eligible to gamble yet, and there were other things going on in my life that took up my time. As I gradually grew older, I’d secretly count down the years in my head after each successive birthday until I was 21, when I could do everything in my state legally that had some sort of ‘age of majority’ requirement.
I celebrated my 21st birthday in College with friends, and also went out to dinner with my parents. After our dinner, my parents took me to the nearby casino, one of the largest in the world, to see if we would have lady luck on our side.
The night I first walked into that casino, I felt like I was in nirvana, in a way. Aside from the cigarette smoke from others, the rest of the casino was very exciting and mind boggling. There were places to eat, drink, shop, and plenty of slot machines, not to mention table games including Blackjack.
So, it goes without saying that on my 21st birthday the first thing I did was swagger up to a Blackjack table and try my luck. I threw down $30 and got 6 chips in return, since the table minimum was $5 a bet. My parents stepped aside and played the nearby slot machines for about $30 each, but had no luck. Things were different for me: After initially losing a couple chips, I made a big comeback and ended up walking away from the table with another $30 beyond my initial investment.
Now I know what you’re thinking, big deal - it’s only $30 and perhaps beginner’s luck. For me, however, it felt like an invitation into a world of excitement and mystery, where anyone could come and play and join in the festive atmosphere.
They say that the best way to hook a gambler is by letting them win the first couple times they play. Once they feel the excitement of making a little money, they will return time and time again in search of even more riches.
Well, this simple prophecy turned out true for me. I didn’t immediately return to the casino until a few months later when a few of us in my college dorm room were talking about playing cards. We got so excited that we decided a midnight trip to the casino was in order.
Off we went, and by 5 AM in the morning, while my dorm mates were licking their wounds from bitter losses of precious college spending money, I was riding high, this time taking home just over $200 in winnings.
After this experience, I was hooked.
The deciding factor in my frequency of gambling, however, was the degree of loneliness, emptiness, and sense of depression I had my Junior year in College. I was busy around campus doing various things, but had no intimate friendships, relationships, or any social outlets where I could really feel like myself.
By the second semester of my Junior year, BPD rearing its ugly head, I started to slowly but surely “step off” of campus after I did my homework and make casino runs by myself.
Since I had a car, making runs to the casino was easy, and I had a little savings account and ATM card that would keep me going for a while. I also figured, of course, that I would win my fair share as well, and this would stave off the need to actually come out of pocket to gamble.
By the end of my Junior year and into early Senior year, whenever I felt down, bored, starved for attention, or alone, I stole away to the casino.
When I played Blackjack I felt like a king. The old folks at the table nicknamed me “the wiz kid”, because I had good blackjack strategy and casually tried (but failed) at counting cards.
On some lucky nights, I was going at it full steam like a regular high roller. I’d come in and plop down $100 - $200, and have a go at it. One night, I was able to build my winnings to just over $2000 within 3 hours. At times, I was playing for $200 a hand. All the while, I was tipping the dealers, getting free drinks, and making a big scene as the table’s big winner. Even the Asian gamblers from New York city found me entertaining, and we all got into a grand mood as we played to the early hours of the morning.
In the end, however, I got greedy and gambled all the $2000 away. After running out of my bankroll for that evening, I slowly walked away, vowing to return again and repeat my winning ways - of course vowing also to walk away if I was indeed ahead.
Needless to say, I missed class that day…and on many other days. Soon, my bank account ran dry. After my cash supply was finished, I resorted to getting as many credit cards as I could, and used the cash advance feature to get money for gambling. I also sold a couple things, including items from my coin and currency collection, to finance gambling outings, all because I had finally found a venue where I was accepted and could really feel alive.
Desperate for money towards the middle of Fall my Senior year in College, my mother loaned me $2000 to pay off credit cards and to use as general spending money. This was a big mistake, because no matter what happens, you should NEVER give a problem gambler a loan. Why? Because the money and me found ourselves back at the casino playing scared, which in and of itself was a greater thrill than ever.
Running out of time, money, and sanity during the twilight of my College years was brutal. At times, I resorted to making early morning rounds about the various dormitories collecting beer cans from the previous nights’ parties. I would bring them to the supermarket and recycle them for a few bucks: good for laundry, school supplies, and of course scratch-off cards. Slowly, however, my losses and desperate need to gamble - and more importantly my desperate need to feel good, eventually turned against me and began to cause drastic and utter emotional pain.
As a result, one evening, after racking up a $300 charge on my credit card playing blackjack online, I was hopeless. I drove to the area casinos and put myself on the “self exclusion” list. Then I called the state problem gambling hotline and talked to a few counselors, at which point I joined Gambler’s Anonymous in hopes of curing my addiction. I would stop gambling for 3 months, but then broke my pledge and again returned to GA in order to cease gambling.
In the end, I decided that GA was not for me, mostly because I was by far the youngest person in the room, and also because much of the comradery between 12 step program members is felt in sharing a common, gambling free life style reflective of those in their mid 40’s to early 60’s. At 24 years young, I simply could not put my life on hold and live like I was married, in debt, and under house arrest like a middle-aged man.
So, under will power alone I stopped gambling until 2004 when I moved to Costa Rica. Charmed by my new friends and fast lane life in Costa Rica, I quickly got back into the casino routine again. This time, however, was different: after getting several calls from my credit card company one night regarding “suspicious activity from Costa Rica” AND being escorted out of a casino completely wasted, I threw in the towel.
I haven’t placed a bet in four years. Along the way I’ve played blackjack for “fake money” online, and tried online poker for fun chips - but I haven’t ever actually traded money for chips in order to see gambling action. Plain and simple, playing for “real money” is what my addiction is about, and when I play a casino style game for “fake chips” I don’t feel any rush or excitement that characterized my addiction.
Losing the casino from my life was a multi-dimensional loss. I was depressed and tired from money struggles and losing, but at the same time I was equally, if not more, depressed and tired of not having a place to go to live it up and get a good adrenaline rush.
Now, four years later, I walk through a casino once in a while, just to see what it is like and to recall in my head big nights where money, licquor, and good times seemed to flow like water. I also remind myself of all the pain and depression losing my money to the casino caused, and the unnecessary stress it caused in my life.
Don’t get me wrong: If starting to gamble again “didn’t cost anything” and I’d get the same rush I got from my days in college, I’d do it in a heart beat.
Unfortunately, casinos stay open because the experience they provide comes from a trade off: If you’re willing to part with your money, you can have that exact dollar amount’s worth of casino action, for however long it will last.
Some days I feel so utterly bored, empty, and lonely that I want to get up and head back to the Blackjack tables. Ultimately, however, I just tell myself that would be “foolish”, since for the first time in my life I have money and would feel awful if I were to once again become broke from gambling.
It pains me NOT to gamble, but it pains me to gamble. So instead, I simply abstain. I choose neither of the two, in hopes of finding something else that will satisfy my basic human needs of emotional, psychological, and social excitement and pleasure.
“They say that the best way to hook a gambler is by letting them win the first couple times they play. Once they feel the excitement of making a little money, they will return time and time again in search of even more riches.”
Funny you mentioned this. This is exactly what happens when you get into a relationship with someone who has BPD: at first it is pure heaven, they make you feel like solid gold. Once you’re hooked, however, they suck you ‘dry’ - but you keep coming back for more, time and time again, in the hope of recapturing what you had (or thought you had) in the beginning. It never happens, of course.
Finally you are faced with a simple choice: either go emotionally (and sometimes even financially) bankrupt or cut your losses and run for the hills.