gonores
03-28-2004, 06:31 PM
The following is a “hand” I played last night at a local, ummm, B&M.
I had the rare opportunity to get out on the prowl in Milwaukee last night. Marquette is the antithesis of UW-Madison in terms of social atmosphere, and the long-term relationship is the norm at this school. This doesn’t present itself too well to a dedicated bachelor like myself, but I make do with the situation. The big problem is that when it comes time to go hang out with the boys, strategic goals of the evening rarely revolve around attracting lovely young women, as basically every friend I have has been in a long-term relationship for most of their collegiate careers. Instead, the clichéd “Boys Night Out” usually revolves around competition, alcohol, and juvenile humor. Don’t get me wrong….I love Urban Paintball and Speed Parallel Parking as much as the next guy, but somehow I feel like I am missing a quintessential aspect of college life because I rarely get to hunt females in a pack greater than 1. Thankfully, for me, a St. Valentine Day massacre of sorts took place this year, leaving two of my buddies single. After weeks of coaxing, I finally dragged them out of hiding last night and talked them into heading down to the Rock Bottom Brewery in downtown Brewtown.
The Rock Bottom is a perfect place for me to play. The female regulars there are a good combination of loose-passive and loose-aggressive, which fits right into my style. It’s even better for me tonight, because I’m high on confidence…the basketball court, the class room, the poker tables, the internship…wherever I’ve been this week, I’ve been cleaning up. You bring confidence into this kind of game, and there’s no telling what kind of damage you can do.
Some people will tell you table selection isn’t important at this place, as you are bound to get action no matter where you sit, but I beg to differ. I sit down with my boys and I order up the first round…black and tans for everyone. Our drinks come, and the night kicks off. I see a group of women…exactly the type of opponents for which I am looking tonight. One of them, in particular….long-haired blonde, has a quiet, nearly imperceptible aura of confidence about her. She’s wearing an eye-catching turquoise, sleeveless turtleneck and black pants with heels…a little overdressed for the establishment…either she’s heading elsewhere tonight or she’s new to the scene. I’m reading a sort of bookish common sense in her eyes…she’s not going anywhere else tonight…she’s overdressed…but it doesn’t bother her at all. The second I see her, I’m imagining a ponytail and light-blue scrubs…med student…she has to be. Where else is a girl who’s looking like that in a place like this going to lose her sense of self-consciousness? Anywho, where was I? Table selection….the ladies take a seat a few rows down, and I call the brush, a friend of mine, over and immediately ask for a table change. There’s multi-generational group of 4 sitting back-to-back with my target, probably a meet-the-parents-type get-together. They’re hold-overs from the dinner crowd….just enjoying drinks, but it looks like mom and dad are about to go to the felt. They soon grab for some racks, and I make sure we get that seat. We take a few orbits at my current table, and basically sit and fold junk hands, all the while salivating at the possibilities at the new table. We finally get called over, approximately 1.5 black and tans into the night, we sit down, and my buddy cries “akshawn!” It’s show time at the Rock.
First chance I get at the new table, I show some preflop aggression. Just as I am sitting down, I look over at our new opponents, and I fire out some observational humor about the Sweet-n-Low package one of our opponents with which one of our opponents is playing. The joke is well-received, and it’s time to see a flop. With the kind of hand I have, I can’t help but smile at the preflop action...it has to be a precursor for things to come, right?
The flop comes: poseur, dirty old man, techie nerd. I check out my opponent and it’s obvious the flop has entirely missed her. Completely disinterested. I check my hole cards once more and I decide to slow-play her. My thinking here is that if I act now, I am not going to get maximum PV out of this great situation. I’ll wait a little while, let her have a few more drinks, and hope to get maximum payoff for my aggression. I try to feign disinterest by engaging my buddies in a discussion about the upcoming NFL draft.
I decide to make my move on the turn after pot head shows up on the board. After another quick joke, I pull an isolation move. “By the way, I’m Doug. I’m going to go to the bar and get another drink, care to join me.” She falls for the play, and I get some valuable information off her on this street. She’s a med student (what a read), new to the area. She doesn’t have to tell me, but I can tell she has a great mind, with plenty insight and wit being injected into the conversation (yeah, sure, that’s what I’m looking for). I was hoping she would raise me with her phone number so I could re-raise with an invite for her and her friends to some after-bar fun back at my place with me and my comrades. From her body language, I was pretty sure I was getting paid off…but she teases me a little. Apparently we’ve been gone long enough and it’s time for me to take her back to her friends. I’m still pretty certain I’m getting paid at the river, but I’ll have to wait and see.
To review, the board so far is poseur, dirty old man, techie nerd, pot head. I’m dead positive I’ve got the best hand coming in to the river, but then, disaster strikes. The river comes: college athlete & posse. I won’t disclose his identity, but to be certain, if you know anything about Milwaukee NCAA sports, you’re no more than a few educated guesses away from figuring out who this guy is. Just as I am gathering up my boys to change seats to get better position on our opponents, I take a look over at “Her.” Showtunes are going off in her head (this line was inserted to induce vomiting from the reader). Christ….the one card in the deck that can help her, and she rivers me. It’s obvious….just look at her eyes. That little voice in my head says “who cares…you HAVE to show more aggression here. Don’t worry about the river.” So stubborn old me fires out once more, only to get with the obvious knockout raise. I decide to save a bet and fold before this hand gets anymore expensive, and myself and my friends head down the street to find another table….my image irreparably damaged at this place for the night.
So, the question I ask you…was slowplaying a positive PV move here? I guess I wanted her staying in the hand while drawing extremely thin, but the way I played it, I got nothing, not even a phone number. Was I too greedy?
I had the rare opportunity to get out on the prowl in Milwaukee last night. Marquette is the antithesis of UW-Madison in terms of social atmosphere, and the long-term relationship is the norm at this school. This doesn’t present itself too well to a dedicated bachelor like myself, but I make do with the situation. The big problem is that when it comes time to go hang out with the boys, strategic goals of the evening rarely revolve around attracting lovely young women, as basically every friend I have has been in a long-term relationship for most of their collegiate careers. Instead, the clichéd “Boys Night Out” usually revolves around competition, alcohol, and juvenile humor. Don’t get me wrong….I love Urban Paintball and Speed Parallel Parking as much as the next guy, but somehow I feel like I am missing a quintessential aspect of college life because I rarely get to hunt females in a pack greater than 1. Thankfully, for me, a St. Valentine Day massacre of sorts took place this year, leaving two of my buddies single. After weeks of coaxing, I finally dragged them out of hiding last night and talked them into heading down to the Rock Bottom Brewery in downtown Brewtown.
The Rock Bottom is a perfect place for me to play. The female regulars there are a good combination of loose-passive and loose-aggressive, which fits right into my style. It’s even better for me tonight, because I’m high on confidence…the basketball court, the class room, the poker tables, the internship…wherever I’ve been this week, I’ve been cleaning up. You bring confidence into this kind of game, and there’s no telling what kind of damage you can do.
Some people will tell you table selection isn’t important at this place, as you are bound to get action no matter where you sit, but I beg to differ. I sit down with my boys and I order up the first round…black and tans for everyone. Our drinks come, and the night kicks off. I see a group of women…exactly the type of opponents for which I am looking tonight. One of them, in particular….long-haired blonde, has a quiet, nearly imperceptible aura of confidence about her. She’s wearing an eye-catching turquoise, sleeveless turtleneck and black pants with heels…a little overdressed for the establishment…either she’s heading elsewhere tonight or she’s new to the scene. I’m reading a sort of bookish common sense in her eyes…she’s not going anywhere else tonight…she’s overdressed…but it doesn’t bother her at all. The second I see her, I’m imagining a ponytail and light-blue scrubs…med student…she has to be. Where else is a girl who’s looking like that in a place like this going to lose her sense of self-consciousness? Anywho, where was I? Table selection….the ladies take a seat a few rows down, and I call the brush, a friend of mine, over and immediately ask for a table change. There’s multi-generational group of 4 sitting back-to-back with my target, probably a meet-the-parents-type get-together. They’re hold-overs from the dinner crowd….just enjoying drinks, but it looks like mom and dad are about to go to the felt. They soon grab for some racks, and I make sure we get that seat. We take a few orbits at my current table, and basically sit and fold junk hands, all the while salivating at the possibilities at the new table. We finally get called over, approximately 1.5 black and tans into the night, we sit down, and my buddy cries “akshawn!” It’s show time at the Rock.
First chance I get at the new table, I show some preflop aggression. Just as I am sitting down, I look over at our new opponents, and I fire out some observational humor about the Sweet-n-Low package one of our opponents with which one of our opponents is playing. The joke is well-received, and it’s time to see a flop. With the kind of hand I have, I can’t help but smile at the preflop action...it has to be a precursor for things to come, right?
The flop comes: poseur, dirty old man, techie nerd. I check out my opponent and it’s obvious the flop has entirely missed her. Completely disinterested. I check my hole cards once more and I decide to slow-play her. My thinking here is that if I act now, I am not going to get maximum PV out of this great situation. I’ll wait a little while, let her have a few more drinks, and hope to get maximum payoff for my aggression. I try to feign disinterest by engaging my buddies in a discussion about the upcoming NFL draft.
I decide to make my move on the turn after pot head shows up on the board. After another quick joke, I pull an isolation move. “By the way, I’m Doug. I’m going to go to the bar and get another drink, care to join me.” She falls for the play, and I get some valuable information off her on this street. She’s a med student (what a read), new to the area. She doesn’t have to tell me, but I can tell she has a great mind, with plenty insight and wit being injected into the conversation (yeah, sure, that’s what I’m looking for). I was hoping she would raise me with her phone number so I could re-raise with an invite for her and her friends to some after-bar fun back at my place with me and my comrades. From her body language, I was pretty sure I was getting paid off…but she teases me a little. Apparently we’ve been gone long enough and it’s time for me to take her back to her friends. I’m still pretty certain I’m getting paid at the river, but I’ll have to wait and see.
To review, the board so far is poseur, dirty old man, techie nerd, pot head. I’m dead positive I’ve got the best hand coming in to the river, but then, disaster strikes. The river comes: college athlete & posse. I won’t disclose his identity, but to be certain, if you know anything about Milwaukee NCAA sports, you’re no more than a few educated guesses away from figuring out who this guy is. Just as I am gathering up my boys to change seats to get better position on our opponents, I take a look over at “Her.” Showtunes are going off in her head (this line was inserted to induce vomiting from the reader). Christ….the one card in the deck that can help her, and she rivers me. It’s obvious….just look at her eyes. That little voice in my head says “who cares…you HAVE to show more aggression here. Don’t worry about the river.” So stubborn old me fires out once more, only to get with the obvious knockout raise. I decide to save a bet and fold before this hand gets anymore expensive, and myself and my friends head down the street to find another table….my image irreparably damaged at this place for the night.
So, the question I ask you…was slowplaying a positive PV move here? I guess I wanted her staying in the hand while drawing extremely thin, but the way I played it, I got nothing, not even a phone number. Was I too greedy?