Memories of my college gambling days.

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First of all I should apologize for not posting note that I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve had a couple of busy weeks, deal with it.

Anyway I was recently thinking about one of my favorite college diversions, gambling. I don’t really gamble anymore, at least not in the way that I did when I was in school. It’s probably because I’m not surrounded by dozens of degenerates at all times like I was in school and has something to do with the fact that now that I have a full-time job and some disposable income of my own so the thrill of winning $50 has lost some of its luster.

Regardless of the reasons I just don’t gamble like I did while I was a student. At school I didn’t just gamble on sports I used to find excuses to gamble on everything. I remember once betting my friend $10 that it would snow the next day, or betting him 2 pitchers that he couldn’t get 10 girls phone numbers in one night. For me the trill of this gambling wasn’t in winning and money, it was more about proving that I was right or that I was somehow smarter than whoever I was betting against. Coincidentally I used this same logic to justify that it wasn’t a problem, I didn’t go through the highs and lows of an addict, rather I went through the ups and downs of a smart ass. Of all of the gambling that I did though my favorite were the bets that didn’t involve cash.

We used to bet on different things all the time and the stakes often would involve challenges of manhood and superiority. Let me explain this, the stakes for our bets would often involve things that neither of us wanted to do, thus the loser would essentially be punished more than the winner would be rewarded. For example the stakes to a game of FIFA Soccer in my dorm one time involved the loser not being allowed to wear a coat for a the rest of the day. While this may not seem to bad in my current location of sunny South Beach, in the -25 degree weather of Montreal it could probably be considered torture. The stakes would always change but like any Japanese game show worth its salt the loser would always be punished. My favorite stake of all time was to bet someone a “bar dare.” A bar dare was exactly as it sound, it was a dare that could be cashed in at any time but only while both competitors were at the bar, and as long as it was reasonable the loser could not turn it down. Bar dares were amazing. I specifically remember cashing in one that forced my friend to take 5 shots of Vodka on a night when one of my roommates was “planning on taking it easy, because his girlfriend was coming into town the next day” (didn’t end well) and another forcing a friend to come to a French Canadian bar with me that was 10 miles away so that I could meet up with a girl. While I may make it sound in the post like I always won, frankly that wasn’t the case at all.

I certainly did my share of losing. I specifically remember two of my most humiliating defeats. The first forbid to read about, watch on television or talk about my favorite sports team, the Toronto Maple Leafs for an entire week just before the playoffs started. The next forced me to eat a stick of Beef Jerky which wouldn’t normally have been much of an issue but I was at the time (and still am now) a vegetarian. I suppose that you always remember the defeats more than the victories but I think that my ultra-competitiveness hasn’t allowed me to forget that last loss, it has indeed stuck with me far longer than the salty nitrates possibly could have. Worst of all looking back on it the bet was so stupid. It was based on the short lived Fox reality show Man vs. Beast… I can’t believe I choose man.

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2 Comments

Filed under Beef Jerky, college, Gambling, Glory Days, Life

2 responses to “Memories of my college gambling days.

  1. Obviously you don’t remember your trip back here when we played the “dice game” all night. I remember being forced to chug 3/4 of a bottle of Pinot Grigio before we left the pre-drink and then losing about 50 bucks to some random guy who’d never played the game once we got to the (2nd?) bar.
    p.s. Poor Butch.

  2. Jerry

    Nothing wrong with glory days of gambling.

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