View From a Female
Nov. 10, 2011, Posted by Submission
So you fancy yourself as a hot poker player, but you’re a woman. So what? Who gives a shit if you’re a woman? Men do, because men bully women at the poker table.
Or do they?
Well from my experience, yes they do. Or at least they try to.
Just recently I played the IPO in Dublin. I was at, you guessed it, a table full of men and me just the one female. Surely in this day and age you would think there would be a few more ladies strutting their stuff about the place!
Every time I pushed out my big blind with my freshly manicured nails, some eagle had his eye on it. Don’t think I didn’t see, because I did, and each time before I peeked at my cards I prayed they would be painted or even paired so I could trap that robbing bastard!
But more often than not it was not to be, so what did I do? Once again with those lovely polished nails I hesitantly pushed those two cards into the middle of the table surrendering which might have possibly been the better hand. How am I to know, that is the question?
In my heart I know well what they are at. So I ask myself, where do I get the courage to say, “Fuck you I’m all in!”
When I’m assigned my table, I know the usual crew of males are going to be there, already seated, chatting away in their poker lingo and discussing the latest match that has just been aired on TV. They barely nod at me and think to themselves, “Easy chips!!” All the while I’m uncomfortably trying to compose myself, looking down at my top to make sure everything is intact and hoping the chap next to me is normal enough to have a conversation with until the poker kicks off.
I’ve often wondered what it would be like if I could swap places with Liv Boeree for just one tournament. Without a doubt she gets respect at the table, but why? Well she did win a big one, so I ask myself if I could win one major tourney, would that be enough to earn respect or at least scare a few of the male species at the table? Sadly, I don’t think I’ll ever know unless I can catch a glimpse of a major final table!
It’s not all bad, though. After sitting for what seems like hours, fold after fold, it feels quite nice to throw in a bluff and get away with it. They never think that the lady playing with her phone and putting on an odd shot of lippy could be bluffing, could she? Women are so aggressive at home in the kitchen, and you can multiply that aggro when a woman is full of PMS; if only I could take that to the table, now that would be fun!
I wish poker were like a romance novel, where the dreamy looking guy in seat seven can’t take his eyes off me, the flirting is getting hot and heavy, and every time I raise he folds. To a non-poker player this would be like getting a free drink every time you walk into a bar!
Sadly, however, this game is dog eat dog, whether you’re a big breasted female or not!
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