Poker at 10:51pm At Night

I'm sitting here in my night gown, winding down for bed.

Dart arrives home from work.  It's an easy bus ride home for him from Downtown Las Vegas to Boulder and Sahara where we live.  His work provides a monthly bus pass since they don't have any parking available for their employees.  (It wouldn't matter if they did, since Dart never got it together enough to get himself a car.)

He bursts into my room like he's in a hurry.  "Hey, get dressed.  We're going out.  I'll meet you out front."

"NO."

I say this loud and clear.  Sometimes Dart thinks that if he does something in a rush he can catch me off-guard and get me to go along with him.  I'm not stupid.  It's Friday night and he wants me to drive him somewhere to play poker.

He acts as though I've become insanely unreasonable and comes back.

"What, what, what, what, what?  Excuse me?  There ain't no 'no.'  There ain't no discussion here.  Get your clothes on and lets get going.  I'm serious, Annie."

"The only place I'm going is to bed."

"Annie, for fucks sake!  I got a feeling I ain't had in a long fucking time.  I will be damned if I'm going to let you ruin this for me.  You hear?  This is the sort of night that can change a man's whole life.  My God, Annie, if you ruin this for me, so help me."

I'm starting to think Dart is a gambling addict.  

I never really connected the dots before, but it's nights like this when I see the same kind of desperation as on that Intervention show.

"If you want to go out, go out," I said.  His bus pass was good for rides all month long, and the buses run late in this town.  "What do you need me for?"

"I need a fucking ride for one."

"Since when?  Take the--"

"You didn't let me finish!  Shhh!  Shhhhh!  Shut your mouth and just listen for once.  You know how damn emasculating it is for a man not even to be able to finish a fucking sentence to his own damn wife?  No.  You don't know that.  But you sure as Hell know how to make my life a living Hell.  You're an expert at that.  It's like you took a class or something.  Is that what it is, Annie?  They giving classes on..."

Wow. 

He was in such rare form tonight that I had to blog it.  

He's going off on a tangent rather than just getting to the point.  He does this when he wants something from me.  It's not a ride, because he can just take the bus.  It has to be money.  This is his dry weekend.  He gets paid twice a week and he already blew last week's pay.

Not to go off on a tangent myself, but the pay we're talking about is a pittance.  Taxi drivers make most of their living off tips.  Dart can never get through a day without blowing his tip money. 

Maybe he really is a gambling addict?  

I have to protect my money and possessions just like the people on the Intervention show.  I thought this was because he was a dishonest loser.  Maybe it's something more?

I put away my computer and pull back my covers.  "Goodnight, Dart."

"Goodnight?  I said we were fucking going out!  We are going out, Annie!"

I sit up again.  "I'm not going anywhere.  What are you going to do?  Fucking drag me?  Get the fuck out of my room!"

His eyes bulge out.  I don't yell at him often.  This is why he thinks he can go so far with his shenanigans.  He's used to pushing my buttons without any reaction.

"This is how you treat me now?"  He fakes some hurt feelings.

"GOODNIGHT, DART."  I start getting ready for bed again.

He gets kind of pathetic.  "Annie, I am begging you.  Please.  This feeling I have is something real, Annie.  I'm not a spiritual man, but I am feeling something tonight."

"So go to the damn casino!"

"I don't have any fucking money!"

I know he doesn't.  He would already be at the casino if he did.  I knew this was why he was trying to drag me out, but I had to get him to admit it.

"That's not my problem, Dart.  You have a job and no expenses.  There's no reason--"

"Do not start on that, Annie!  Not tonight!  Do not screw this thing I'm feeling up for me!"

He never lets me state the facts.  I guess my stupid husband is a gambling addict and I've been living in la la land.  I sit up and look him square in the face.

"If I go out tonight it will be to load my shit in my car and to check into a hotel on Boulder."

He sneers at me.  "Oh, don't even play that, Annie.  Don't even play--"

"I'm not going to live with a fucking gambling addict."

His eyes bulge and he looks wounded again.  For a while he's shaking his head in disbelief.  I just stare at him.  Eventually he looks up like he's pleading with our Maker to give him patience.

"You just ruined my life."  He's got tears in his eyes as he says this. 

He leaves, but I hear him come back and go to bed an hour later.  Tonight was especially bad for us.  I think I really need to ramp up my exit strategy.

Will you please consider using my affiliate link for when you buy off Amazon:
http://amazon.com/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&linkCode=ur2&tag=luvls-20&linkId=MI6JFVLF4GRD7ODQ