Are You Playing The Odds?

Anywhere she wanted to go, we told her. Vegas is what she chose. Not my number one choice for a birthday celebration, but my mom is too adorable to ignore, too giving to deny. So I hopped on a plane to Sin City. If you ask me, it's one big Times Square with the privilege of open container street boozing. But as they say, when in Vegas...

It wasn't about me, though. It was her weekend. She likes to gamble. Not the lose-your-home-and-savings type of coin dropping; the tease type that mostly takes a few twenties, but every once in a while rewards with a few dramatic grand.

The bells and whistles and crisp bill losing is not for me (I'd rather lose my coins at the Apple Store), but for her it's all one big gamble. Not just her slots, but life in general. You never know what might happen, she says. Sure the odds are in their favor, but every once in a while—sometimes more than not—fortune slants your way. And when it does it's worth the risk.

I stood on the sidelines in a cloud of smoke, scantily-costumed waitresses and flashing lights and thought about my life and what level of risk I normally take. A good friend once told me, "If you're going to live, live!" The great Marvin Gaye once sang: "Since we've got to be here, lets live."

I thought, how often did I just drop a coin, which could represent my guard or my ego, at the longest of odds? Very few times. Yet I always, as if entitled to it, expected a big pay off.

When it comes to dating and relationships, the hookup is still alive and easy, but the dates (or the men, I should say) of today expect a little effort to establish and grow anything significant. They expect risk and proof that all gay men aren't clichés, sex feines, false ads or full of golden dust.

It's understandable that some of us protect our coins. When you've lost so many how can you stand to lose any more? But much of gay life is anticipation followed by frustration: the angst of coming out, followed the weight of what's next; the thrill of desiring love, trailed by difficulties finding it; the liberation of freely expressing oneself amid realities that not everyone is comfortable with who you are

Yet there are two sides to every coin and the rewards, although not always immediate, are not impossible. If mom's slot machine doesn't pay off, she waits, gives it a chance (to a limit), then takes her remainings to a machine that might treat her more kind. Then she starts anew, not weighed down by the losses of before, but with a hope that that a particular one will be the one.

After our first slot-filled night she bought dinner. As life would have it, the next tab was on me. But, despite it all, I couldn't help but notice that until our plane had left the tarmac and regardless of all outcomes she never stopped playing the game.

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