Love Gone Bad

The gambling whore will flirt with you anytime. When you're driving in your car, at home or at work; in the morning, afternoon and evening. She even creeps up on you when you've just made love. She whispers in your ear, "let's you and I have a little fling." (ever notice how the euphoria of climaxing feels suspiciously similar to the anticipation of gambling) "No one has to know," she continues. "You deserve a little thrill, after all it's your life and you have the freedom to do what you want."

As Bob Dylan said, "Go ahead and run to her you can't refuse." And we do. Because she is so compelling as she appeals to our weakness. Forget trying to come up with a defense, there are 100 reasons more to give in. And you don't even like her any more than you do getting your teeth kicked in. And that's when you realize its not about her. She is an illusion. Hold the gambling whore up to the sober light of morning and she is ugly, nasty and could give a damn about you. As beautiful and charming she was the night before, in the morning you are left exposed,vulnerable, needy, unanchored and without resource.

But still, we pursue the charlatan even as we make our way back to her doubled over in guilt and shame because we will suffer this to touch immortality. Our affinity for the gambling whore is like love, which imbues us with the feeling that anything is possible. When we win we are magical and we are complete. And like love, gambling endows us with meaning, value and immunity from the mortal world, albeit ephemerally.

But unlike those lovers who are lucky enough to descend from the heavens to make a soft landing, and begin to deal with the realities and limitations of love, gamblers never learn there are curbs to the gambling whore's promises. They insist on being taken to the promise land every time, and if they are not, they spend every dollar, and even more emotionally and spiritually, trying to get there. But she just laughs her fickle laugh. And unlike a loving woman, who tells us she can not be everything to us, the gambling whore lets us believe the lie.