This anonymous submission is about a M’sian man who bitterly regrets giving in to his gambling habit over Chinese New Year.
If you think gambling can’t ruin your life, think again.
This CNY, I lost RM12,000 from gambling. My wife hasn’t spoken to me since. My daughter is also giving me the silent treatment. And right now, I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to make my car loan payments next month.
I want to say I’m not a gambler. That this was just a one-time mistake, a lapse in judgment. But that would be a lie.
The truth is, this didn’t happen overnight. It started years ago, creeping into my life in small, harmless ways—until one day, I looked up and realized I was addicted.
This is my story. If you’ve ever felt that itch, that need to win back what you lost—read this. Maybe it’ll save you from making the same mistakes I did.
How it Happened
I’m Mike (anonymised). I’m 34 this year, an accounts executive working in KL. I make a comfortable enough living—about RM6,000 a month. It’s not bad, but with a mortgage, a car loan, and a six-year-old daughter starting primary school soon, I’m living pretty much paycheck to paycheck.
My wife, Jenny, is the responsible one. She keeps track of our finances, pays our bills on time, and makes sure we save for the future. She’s the type who has Excel spreadsheets for everything—budgeting, meal plans, even our travel expenses. I used to tease her about it, but deep down, I knew we needed that balance.
And then there’s me—the guy who always believed, money can be earned back, don’t be so stressed lah.
I wasn’t reckless, but I wasn’t careful either. I liked the thrill of a small gamble.
It started harmless enough—RM5 bets on Toto 4D, like every other Malaysian uncle. If I passed by a Magnum outlet on my lunch break, I’d pop in, buy a few numbers, and joke with my colleagues about what we’d do if we struck the Jackpot.
This year, recently, there was that chance to win almost RM100 million—I was one of those people queuing in line as well.
Of course, it wasn’t just that. Premier League bets with office buddies—just RM50, sometimes RM100 if it was a big match. Occasionally, I’d win. More often, I’d lose. But it was always within “control.”
But CNY gambling? That was something else.
Chinese New Year has a certain energy that makes you feel invincible. Maybe it’s the endless rounds of “Huat ah!” Maybe it’s the sight of your uncle showing off his new Mercedes, or your cousin casually mentioning their five-figure bonus. But gambling on CNY was always fun, and it’s where I felt like it was safe enough to let loose and try to win some money.
Sometimes When You Gamble You Win
Last year was the Year of the Dragon. My year. And for once, it really felt like it.
It was the third day of CNY, and I was at my friend’s Marcus’s house in Mont Kiara. Marcus is one of those friends you keep around just to remind yourself that some people really do live in another tax bracket. The kind of guy who wears a Rolex, drives a Porsche, and casually mentions flying to Japan just to eat sushi.
Every year, he hosts a CNY gathering where the gambling table isn’t just a game—it’s a spectacle. High stakes, high tension, high drama.
I remember that night so clearly because, for the first time, I won big.
It started small—RM50 bets on 21. At this point, I did win some, which was normal lah, but it wasn’t anything too exciting.
But as the night went on, the stakes got higher. Someone suggested poker, and before I knew it, I was in, sitting at a table with Marcus, a few of his other rich friends, and my cousin Thomas, a lawyer.
These guys don’t play like the uncles at family gatherings. They play fast. Loose. Reckless. For them, losing RM5,000 is an inconvenience, not a disaster.
I should’ve been careful. But that night, luck was on my side.
I started with RM500. Then RM1,000. Then RM2,000. My hands were on fire. Every time I pushed my chips forward, it was like the universe wanted me to win. The final round, I went all in with RM2000, and Marcus—who never backs down from a challenge—matched my bet.
I still remember that moment when the last card was revealed.
Straight flush.
Huat ah!
I walked away with RM 6,000 that night. It felt damn good, man.
The next morning, I told Jenny I’d been lucky at the gambling table. I didn’t tell her how much, but I gave her RM3,000 and told her to put it towards our year-end family trip. She wasn’t happy I gambled, but she was happy about the money.
Last December, we took our daughter to Hong Kong Disneyland. We stayed in a decent hotel, ate at nice restaurants, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I had won at life.
That trip became proof that gambling could pay off. That sometimes, risks do come with rewards.
So this year, when I walked into my cousin’s house and saw the poker table set up, I wasn’t worried. I was confident. Cocky, even.
Lightning had struck once before. Why wouldn’t it strike again?
And that’s how I let my guard down.
The Fall
The second day of CNY. This year, the Year of the Snake.
The day started out at our home. Relatives were still dropping by, collecting ang pows, exchanging the usual “Wah, you gained weight ah?” comments. The atmosphere was festive, loud, full of that unmistakable CNY energy.
It was fun, but honestly I was looking forward to only one thing – this year’s gambling event was going to be at my cousin Thomas’s condo which was in Mont Kiara too.
I went alone because his invite was usually only for the guys’ drinks and gambling, and Jenny hated my gambling habit.
His place wasn’t quite as big as Marcus’s Mont Kiara mansion, but it was still big enough to fit a bunch of his high-rolling friends. We arrived around dinner time, had a quick dinner, a few drinks, and we got down to business.
Thomas had one of those gambling tables with the soft green padding that always got me excited. We started exchanging money for chips, and I changed RM500.
It started harmless. It always does.
We started with a game of 21. RM20 per round. Just enough to make things exciting, not enough to be dangerous. I was playing casually, laughing along with Thomas and his rich friends.
Then one of the uncles—the one who always bragged about his casino wins in Singapore—pulled up a chair. He glanced at the table, then at me, and grinned.
“Small game only, ah?” he said, shuffling the deck with the practiced ease of someone who had spent way too much time in Genting’s VIP rooms. “Come lah, let’s make it interesting. Poker, poker.”
And we switched to playing the game that earned me big last year. This year it was going to happen again. We started playing a few hands.
About two hours later, I had lost about RM250 from the RM500 I brought with me. Jenny started messaging me asking when I’d be home. That should have been my cue to leave. Jenny was waiting.
But then I thought about last year.
The straight flush. The RM6,000 win.
I convinced myself that I was just getting warmed up. That if I left now, I’d be walking away from money that was practically waiting to be won.
So I stayed.
And that’s when everything went wrong.
The Losing Streak
At first, it felt like last year all over again.
I played it slow, played it smart. I even won a few hands. The uncle, Thomas, and Marcus had joined the table by then, and the stakes kept climbing. RM200 per round, then RM500. The whisky was flowing, and with every sip, I felt more in control.
By the time the clock struck 7 PM, I was down RM1,000.
Not ideal, but nothing I couldn’t recover from. I had lost before. It was just a matter of waiting for the right hand.
Except the right hand never came.
Every bet I made, the cards turned against me. Every time I thought I had a strong hand, someone else had something stronger. I folded when I should have played. I played when I should have folded. I could feel my luck slipping away, but I refused to walk away.
Because I had walked away a winner last year.
Because I had turned RM2,000 into RM6,000 before.
Because I knew—deep in my bones—that one good hand could change everything.
By 8 PM, I was down RM2,000. I had borrowed money from others and kept transferring money to them.
That was the moment I should have stopped. That was the moment any rational person would have walked away, accepted their losses, and called it a night.
But I was already drunk and not thinking rationally.
I was thinking about how I had already lost RM2,000. How I needed to win it back. How I couldn’t go home and tell Jenny that not only had Iost all the money I budgeted for gambling, but half the money for our expenses that month. I had thrown away the equivalent of a month’s salary in just a few hours.
So I did something stupid.
I drove to a nearby Maybank ATM and withdrew ALL my savings—another RM3,000 in cash.
As I held the stack of RM50 notes in my hands, I told myself this was it—my redemption round.
One good hand, and I’d win everything back.
Instead, by 9 PM, I had lost it all.
RM5,000 — gone. Just like that.
I sat there, staring at my empty hands, feeling damn f-ing stupid. The laughter at the table was still loud, the game still going, but it all sounded distant, like I was underwater.
Then, Thomas leaned over and whispered, “Need to borrow ah?”
And against all logic, against every warning bell ringing in my head, I nodded.
The Final Blow
I made the mental calculation – I needed to first win back my RM5,000, and then I needed to win another RM6,000 to get the equivalent of last year’s winnings. For that, I needed at least 6-7k.
I asked, and Thomas handed me RM7,000 from his winnings.
“You sure ah, bro?” Thomas asked. It was nothing for Thomas, but even he realized that I may be biting more than I can chew.
My hands felt clammy as I took the money. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was wrong. I knew this was exactly how my father had started—borrowing money at the table, promising himself it was just a temporary setback.
But I pushed the thought away.
I wasn’t my father. I was luckier than him.
At first, I played cautiously. Small bets. RM500, then RM1,000. I wasn’t chasing a big win, just enough to climb out of the hole I had dug for myself.
Then it happened.
Pocket aces.
The best starting hand in poker.
I felt my heart hammer in my chest as I stared at the cards in my hands. This was it. This was the hand. The one I had been waiting for all night. The one that would bring me back.
I went all in – I think about RM6,000 in my pile of chips at the time.
Marcus called immediately. So did my uncle.
This was it, I said to myself.
The flop came. Ace of spades. Five of diamonds. Jack of hearts.
Three of a kind.
I nearly exhaled in relief. Unless someone had pocket jacks or some ridiculous straight draw, this was my win.
The turn came. Eight of clubs.
No danger. I could already feel the weight lifting off my shoulders.
Then the river.
Jack of spades.
The room was super tense. Everyone was now looking to see the reveal. I think my poker face must’ve gone to hell, I was so excited and confident. I was about to win the entire pot, which I think must’ve been about 10, 11k already.
Marcus flipped his cards. Pocket jacks.
Four of a kind.
Wait, what.
Silence.
Then—”Wah! What a hand!” Laughter. The group went crazy. Claps on the back. Someone pouring another round of whisky.
I didn’t move.
RM12,000. Gone.
I had nothing left. Not even a single RM50 note in my wallet.
I sat there, staring at the table, my brain refusing to process what had just happened.
Thomas gave me a look, a little worried. “Tough luck, bro. You gonna be okay ah?”
I nodded, numb.
Somewhere in the house, I heard my phone vibrating. Probably Jenny, wondering where I was.
I suddenly felt sick.
I needed to go home.
The Aftermath
The drive home felt longer than it should have. Maybe it was just the weight of what I’d done pressing down on me. Maybe it was the way my head was spinning from the whisky. Or maybe it was the realization that there was no way to undo any of this.
RM12,000 gone.
Not only did I clear my bank account, now I even owed money to other people.
When I reached my condo, I hesitated at the door. The lights were still on. Jenny was awake.
I stepped inside, and there she was, sitting on the couch, arms crossed. She must have waited up for me before falling asleep.
Jenny looked at me, really looked at me, and I knew she already had the answer to the question she was about to ask.
“How much?”
I swallowed. “Twelve thousand.”
The number hung in the air like smoke.
Jenny closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, she looked… tired. Not angry. Not even surprised. Just tired.
She just said, “Your father lost everything to gambling. And still, you… haih, I dunno lah.”
Jenny stood up and walked to the bedroom.
I felt something in my chest tighten. My father. The man I had sworn I would never become. And yet, here I was, repeating his mistakes.
Jenny didn’t slam the door. She didn’t say another word.
But the silence was worse than any screaming match could ever be.
I sat down on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
The weight of what I had done finally settled in.
I had lost more than just money tonight.
I had lost my wife’s trust.
And I had no idea if I would ever get it back.
Final Thoughts
So guys, take it from me. If you’re gonna gamble, don’t spend more than you can afford to lose.
If the table is too high, just suck it up and say no.
Because when you lose at gambling, you don’t just lose money.
You can lose a hell of a lot more.
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