Shouldn't She Have Bought Me Dinner First?

A couple of weeks ago I was playing in a poker tournament at Binion's, downtown.  A woman took the seat next to me who was escorted by a guy who announced that the lady was blind and that he would help her with the cards, whispering in her ear what she was dealt and describing the action to her and telling her when it was her turn.  He promised that she would play the hand, he was just going to give her info. So the guy sat behind her but also sort of next to her and somewhat next to me.  He was actually next to me and crowding me a bit but it was ok.  The woman was sharp and a good player and they had this down to a science and it didn't really slow up the game.

From their talk, I wasn't sure if this guy was her husband or her father.  He looked my age and the woman, whose name was Leslie, looked a lot younger (and was cute).  But the guy could have been prematurely gray and also he had a gray beard that may have made him looked older than he was.

At one point though I think I got my answer.  Leslie won a big pot and was excited about it.  Suddenly I felt something on my leg.  At first I thought it might be a purse strap but the thing started rubbing me.  It was my upper thigh.  I looked down and saw it was Leslie's hand rubbing my leg.  Obviously she thought she was rubbing her companion's leg, not mine.  So now I am pretty sure the guy is her husband and not her father, the way she was rubbing my leg.  At least I sure as hell hope so.

I didn't know what to do.  It was an awkward situation for me to say the least.  But within a couple of seconds Leslie’s husband caught this and said to her, "Leslie, that's not my leg you're rubbing, it's the gentlemen next to you."  She laughed and apologized and immediately took her hand off my leg.  Then she said, "Well, you notice, he didn't seem to mind it."  I just laughed and said it was fine.

Later I told the story to a female player at the BSC, a regular there, a pal of mine, someone I’ve played poker with many times.  When I got to the part of the story where I said, “I didn't know what to do" she said to me, "Yeah, before she started rubbing something else."

Indeed.

The next night I told Jack, the dealer at BSC.  He had an even better line.  Everyone at the table heard my story and laughed, and when the chuckling stopped, Jack asked me, “So is that your idea of a blind date?”