A Possible Explanation In Which Our Protagonist Is Embarrassed And Enriched
Those who know may know that I have little luck with the ladies. Recent information has come to light which might explain this problem.
I have mentioned before that my room is right across from the bathroom and showers -- this is Europe, remember, so they are not in the same room -- which is most convenient for me. The bathroom is just across from me, and the showers are in an alcove beyond that.
Among the many Gary Larson cartoons which make me chuckle, one sticks in my mind and is particularly relevant: there are two outhouses, each with identical pictures of jellyfish on them; the caption states, "Only they know the difference." Apparently, humans are like jellyfish, and I am not a human. I swear I looked at the sign on the door a dozen times at least, but it always looked like a guy.
Well, it wasn't, and it still isn't. It's a picture of a woman. With a skirt. International signage is supposed to be unambiguous, but somehow I got it wrong. Perhaps it's the sarong I wear all the time...
So, this brings us to Hypothesis #1 Concerning Andrew's Mating Habits Or Lack Thereof -- or H1-CAMHOLT, as I like to call it -- namely, Andrew cannot tell apart human genders, thus making him unable to signal to women that he is interested in them. Evidence to support H1-CAMHOLT is found in the numerous instances of Andrew hitting on or otherwise sexually harassing men despite women being present.
This may not, at first, seem related to the topic at hand, but soon it will become clear how this becomes H2-CAMHOLT. Plus, I like to brag a little now and then.
It has been a tradition in Ann Arbor for me to host Cards Night (it was once Card Night, but I liked the pattern in Cards Night better) since I invited folks over one Tuesday, and DJB got to see me drunk. On water. Seriously.
In any case, Tuesday became Thursday, new people came, other people continued not to come, new games were learned, other games were forgotten, I started making food. Before long, we had a full-on tradition. Now I'm over on the other side of the Atlantic. I was worried that I would miss my weekly Cards Night, but, low and behold, a chum here invited me to play some cards on a Thursday night. I, of course, said yes. Now we've been doing this on a weekly basis. We play what I have tried to get people in Ann Arbor to play, but to no avail: Poker.
We play Texas Hold'em. Yes, it's trendy and hip, but it's also lots of fun -- so no harm, no foul. Last week we played for money for the first time -- nothing big, just everyone puts in 4 CHF, and the last one standing wins it all. It doesn't break the bank, but it adds a little thrill and makes people play a little differently.
Now I don't play a lot of poker. I have watched WSOP on ESPN2, but that was purely for Trivia purposes. Really. I've also read WWdN with some frequency and learned of Wil's exploits as a member of Poker All-Stars. I do, however, think I have a good poker face. I'm sure I have a bunch of tells, but this is bush league, and it doesn't matter.
There are four of us. The week before, two guys -- let's call them PGB, PhotoGrammetry Boy (he, unsurprisingly, does the photogrammetry), and BP, British Poseur (he claims he's British)-- had gone out early leaving me and the last guy, SaukEye or SE. After a long duel, SE took all my chips. I was determined not to let that happen this week.
Turns out I should have had the GOP soundtrack playing, because Fortuna was in the house. My house. Sky Masterson wouldn't have beat me that night. I put PGB all in holding a pair of fives. He had a king six. So, he had a lot of chances to stick me. The odds are in my favor, but he says, "At least it's a low pair." The first card in the flop falls: a five. The second card in the flop falls: the final five. The last flop is neither a king or a six, leaving me with an unbeatable four of a kind.
My luck continues through the night. The other guy has a straight, but I have a higher one -- and we'd gone all in. Everyone stays in, raising like mad, each with a queen to match one in the flop. I'm sitting on pocket kings and take them to the cleaners. I call bluffs; I fold when I have to; I wring pairs, flushes, and straights out of nothing when I've stayed in until the end.
In the end, I win the 16 CHF. We play two more hands, neither for money. I win those, too. Oddly enough, PGB and BP keep going out early. They're not playing stupidly, SE and I are just getting better hands: queens over jacks, three of a kind over pairs -- close stuff. It takes no more than four or five rounds for PGB and BP both to be out of chips.
There's an old saw: unlucky at cards, lucky in love. Well, the converse is unlucky in love, lucky at cards. This is H2-CAMHOLT: Andrew has great luck at cards, and is, therefore, unlucky in matters romantic. Is there more evidence? It turns out SE and I are both single, while PGB and BP are both on the verge of marriage.
As a postscript, I got my camera battery charger today, so I'll be posting pictures very soon. Yay!
I have mentioned before that my room is right across from the bathroom and showers -- this is Europe, remember, so they are not in the same room -- which is most convenient for me. The bathroom is just across from me, and the showers are in an alcove beyond that.
Among the many Gary Larson cartoons which make me chuckle, one sticks in my mind and is particularly relevant: there are two outhouses, each with identical pictures of jellyfish on them; the caption states, "Only they know the difference." Apparently, humans are like jellyfish, and I am not a human. I swear I looked at the sign on the door a dozen times at least, but it always looked like a guy.
Well, it wasn't, and it still isn't. It's a picture of a woman. With a skirt. International signage is supposed to be unambiguous, but somehow I got it wrong. Perhaps it's the sarong I wear all the time...
So, this brings us to Hypothesis #1 Concerning Andrew's Mating Habits Or Lack Thereof -- or H1-CAMHOLT, as I like to call it -- namely, Andrew cannot tell apart human genders, thus making him unable to signal to women that he is interested in them. Evidence to support H1-CAMHOLT is found in the numerous instances of Andrew hitting on or otherwise sexually harassing men despite women being present.
This may not, at first, seem related to the topic at hand, but soon it will become clear how this becomes H2-CAMHOLT. Plus, I like to brag a little now and then.
It has been a tradition in Ann Arbor for me to host Cards Night (it was once Card Night, but I liked the pattern in Cards Night better) since I invited folks over one Tuesday, and DJB got to see me drunk. On water. Seriously.
In any case, Tuesday became Thursday, new people came, other people continued not to come, new games were learned, other games were forgotten, I started making food. Before long, we had a full-on tradition. Now I'm over on the other side of the Atlantic. I was worried that I would miss my weekly Cards Night, but, low and behold, a chum here invited me to play some cards on a Thursday night. I, of course, said yes. Now we've been doing this on a weekly basis. We play what I have tried to get people in Ann Arbor to play, but to no avail: Poker.
We play Texas Hold'em. Yes, it's trendy and hip, but it's also lots of fun -- so no harm, no foul. Last week we played for money for the first time -- nothing big, just everyone puts in 4 CHF, and the last one standing wins it all. It doesn't break the bank, but it adds a little thrill and makes people play a little differently.
Now I don't play a lot of poker. I have watched WSOP on ESPN2, but that was purely for Trivia purposes. Really. I've also read WWdN with some frequency and learned of Wil's exploits as a member of Poker All-Stars. I do, however, think I have a good poker face. I'm sure I have a bunch of tells, but this is bush league, and it doesn't matter.
There are four of us. The week before, two guys -- let's call them PGB, PhotoGrammetry Boy (he, unsurprisingly, does the photogrammetry), and BP, British Poseur (he claims he's British)-- had gone out early leaving me and the last guy, SaukEye or SE. After a long duel, SE took all my chips. I was determined not to let that happen this week.
Turns out I should have had the GOP soundtrack playing, because Fortuna was in the house. My house. Sky Masterson wouldn't have beat me that night. I put PGB all in holding a pair of fives. He had a king six. So, he had a lot of chances to stick me. The odds are in my favor, but he says, "At least it's a low pair." The first card in the flop falls: a five. The second card in the flop falls: the final five. The last flop is neither a king or a six, leaving me with an unbeatable four of a kind.
My luck continues through the night. The other guy has a straight, but I have a higher one -- and we'd gone all in. Everyone stays in, raising like mad, each with a queen to match one in the flop. I'm sitting on pocket kings and take them to the cleaners. I call bluffs; I fold when I have to; I wring pairs, flushes, and straights out of nothing when I've stayed in until the end.
In the end, I win the 16 CHF. We play two more hands, neither for money. I win those, too. Oddly enough, PGB and BP keep going out early. They're not playing stupidly, SE and I are just getting better hands: queens over jacks, three of a kind over pairs -- close stuff. It takes no more than four or five rounds for PGB and BP both to be out of chips.
There's an old saw: unlucky at cards, lucky in love. Well, the converse is unlucky in love, lucky at cards. This is H2-CAMHOLT: Andrew has great luck at cards, and is, therefore, unlucky in matters romantic. Is there more evidence? It turns out SE and I are both single, while PGB and BP are both on the verge of marriage.
As a postscript, I got my camera battery charger today, so I'll be posting pictures very soon. Yay!