When I was nineteen, dancing in my first production show, I was invited out after the second show by a male dancer who I greatly admired. He was gorgeous, funny, in incredible shape, and we got along well. I was hopeful that this was the beginning of an exciting romance.
After eating a late dinner at a restaurant that he chose, he wanted to sit in the casino and gamble. I said I would watch. We had just cashed our paychecks. I had mine mentally organized with the bills I needed to pay: rent, utilities, groceries, gas for the car, and my precious ballet classes.
As I sat next to him on a tall leather stool, I watched him gamble away his entire paycheck. It made me feel sick to my stomach. My energy deflated, I wondered how he was going to pay all of his bills. The several hundred dollars he had earned had been eaten up eaten up by the machines over a few hours. I was bored and exhausted.
So much for my hopes of a romantic evening and future with him. It was quite a lesson. As we walked out, he pointed of a picture of himself on the wall of the casino. “See that,” he bragged. “That’s me when I won $10,000.00. It will happen again.” He was flanked by two showgirls. My heart sank. I doubted it.
In spite of all he had going for him, he was self destructive. These holes grow larger as people age. In retrospect, I am glad now that I learned of his addictions early on…I knew that lifestyle wouldn’t work for me.
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