Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Golden Handcuffs For Compulsive Gambler

What a wonderful day in Chicago. It's about noon on Tuesday and the snow is falling like crazy. I live 29 stories high in a fancy penthouse. I just went out shopping for food and prostate medicine since it appears the city will be buried for a few days. I have enough money to live on, good health, great kids. I am missing a woman in my life who I have been searching furiously for on www.match.com where I have  success even at 64.
One problem. All of this does not allow me to do what I want to do most. I want to gamble. I am a compulsive gambler and despite being one of the luckiest men alive I miss my lover. The dice tables and poker tables are 40 minutes away and I cannot go to them.

If I do gamble again I will probably lose everything. I know that. I know I cannot betray the trust I have been shown. So, I will write, work out, and keep hunting for a new lady. It is like being held in a penthouse jail with golden hand cuffs. I can do anything I want except bet. Life is so unfair

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