Life is too short to play mind games with the house a.k.a. Mr. Player, yet for some of us, myself included, it is, in essence the thrill of the craps table that keeps us in the game.  Just like a gambler, we are addicted by the highs of the feel good moments when we are raking in the chips and devastated by the lows when we realize those stacks of chips are quickly dwindling away and we start to feel as if we’ve truly wasted our time, or did we?  Gambling is a drug much the same as dating Mr. Player is a drug.

Mr. Player!  Where do I begin.

The Pros

He’s hot.  Panty-dropper hot!!  He’s strong and sexy, and he possesses a bad-boy persona that sucks you in.  When we were together, he made me feel like a queen.  We went to the finest bars and restaurants.  He said all the right things: I looked ravishing, I smelled magical, I somehow possessed a mystical power over him.  He talked the future (pro), though he never followed through (con).  It was always ecstasy on steroids.  The PDA was rabid; sex in restaurant bathrooms, orgasms at table.  The sex wherever it was, was amazing. Mind blowing.  To satisfy my needs, he was willing to try things he had never engaged in before.

 

The Cons

The never ending and repetitive, as in you’ve used that six times in the past, excuses for cancelling plans: food poisoning, stomach flu, kids have strep throat.  Seriously get a doctor who makes house calls.  Then there was the best friend’s father who was in the hospital gravely ill and it wasn’t looking good, only to never hear about that best friend or the father again.  His three kids had at least six birthday dinners to celebrate their birthdays.  Three kids, six dinners, six different months.  I think they were celebrating halves, quarters and who knows what.  I think the dog celebrated a birthday too.   Perhaps there was a cat too, Just saying.  Oh and the pièce de résistance, my absolute favorite, also used on more than one occasion: I was out with the guys drinking all day in the Berkshires and the State Trooper friend who was drinking with us strongly suggests that I not get on the road and drive.

Mr. Player is only about winning and stringing you along so you stay in the game long enough to give him your every last chip, and you, for good or bad, harbor delusions that you are going to be the game changer you are going to beat the house.  You are going to be THAT girl.  You know the one, the one who makes him resign his Mr. Player membership card.  This is exactly what my Mr. Player relationship looked like.  And those are the precise excuses he used time and time again.  For sport, I kept a list in my desk drawer.

For me, I knew the reputation that preceded Mr. Player.  However, in my defense, I did not learn this until I was already captivated under his sinister spell.  I would listen to my friends, knowing they wanted to protect me and not see me get hurt, but I did not hear it.  For the most part, it was in one ear and out the other.  I even tried to separate from Mr. Player on three distinct instances, but it never lasted.  I was an addict.  I was addicted to the crazy good times we spent together, his heart melting looks and his sweet charm, and I knew my friends would pick up the pieces on the days I couldn’t get a seat at the craps table.

The adrenalin was flowing through my veins like crazy.  I couldn’t get enough of the high, the action, the games, the rhythmic hum of it all.  It was exhilarating every time we were together and then…

Suddenly it wasn’t.

My phone rang at midnight waking me from a sound sleep.  The voice on the other end of the line, said, “COME NOW” in a vehement tone.  And that voice continued, “Mr. Player is playing you.  I’m sorry, but you need to witness this for yourself.  It appears that he is quite comfy with a girl that is clearly NOT you.”

Tossing on the nearest outfit I could grab; jeans, sweater and ballet flats.  In under five minutes I was dressed with teeth brushed and a semi-made up face on.  It was time to confront reality.

I had heard the last excuse I was ever going to accept.  He sat there and lied to my face as I caught him with his proverbial and literal pants down in the stall in the men’s restroom with another woman.  He told me they had just met.  That she was a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, you get the idea.  So, a virtual stranger.  Was that supposed to lessen the blow.  That she was using the men’s restroom because the women’s room was full, at midnight on a Monday!  And when I asked him why this required him to be on the inside of the stall with her, he looked at me blankly and changed the subject.  And then he proceeded to leave with this new conquest.

There were so many ways I could have handled the situation, but I chose to hold my head high, to keep my dignity and act with class and pride.  Truthfully, by this point, seeing his eyes and facial expressions as he spewed lie after lie to me and this girl was comical.

With no remorse on his part, he texted me the following morning, my guess, when he was getting into the car after spending the night with this woman, only to exclaim he didn’t understand how I could possible be upset with him.  Back story, Mr. Player had reassuringly stated on more than one occasion in the past, that his life was extremely busy with work, a new venture that was soon to be launching and his three children, and that these factors were the sole reason we did not see each other more often.  And, he always, always, always professed that he was not dating or sleeping with anyone else.  I took that at face value and assumed he was being honest. Yet in his early morning text, he could only care to add to the lies.  And for what purpose?  That I would not be upset and we could continue as if this was a blip on the radar.

He couldn’t understand that seeing him in this light, I was, plain and simply, (momentarily) hurt?

I was done playing the game.  The time had come to place my last bet in hopes of gaining all my chips back or to gather up any that were remaining, move on and cash out.  I told him he had a choice to make and honestly, I am not even sure why I gave him an option, but I did.  Belief in the fairytale, I guess.  He needed to choose to give up being Mr. Player and enter an exclusive relationship with me or that I was setting myself free of him.  Had he decided on exclusive relationship, I wasn’t even convinced that I wanted to go down that path, it would not have lasted.

The challenge to tame this beast was not won.  Mr. Player was not willing to commit and thus, so be it.

However, I asked a few of my single girl friends that same question, if the house always wins, is it worth the gamble?  And much to my amazement, the answers were split.  Some admitted that they would engage in a relationship with the right Mr. Player, as soon as in the next five minutes.  For me, I am taking a sabbatical from the Mr. player types and I honestly believe I dodged a bullet.