I started out winning a bunch, but my luck turned south about 1 AM. From then on, it seems like every time I hit on 12 I busted with a face card, every time I doubled down on 10 or 11 I drew a deuce, and if my first two cards were any good, the dealer was showing a face card with another one down.

By 2:30 I was down $3,500, even though Jill and I had agreed on a $1,000 loss limit for the weekend. We really can’t afford to lose even $1,000 , and I had no business playing at a $100 table. I was down to my last black chip and feeling physically sick about the prospect of going back to the room and telling her what I’d done. She’s a terrific wife in all respects, but I knew she’d go ballistic when she found out. She must have been picking up the bad vibe, because suddenly she was standing next to me at the table. I told her what I’d done. “You might as well play the last chip,” she said. So I did, and I busted again.

We split up a few weeks later and I still miss her so much.