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Hi. My name is Sommer. And I have a gambling problem.

At least, I think I might. But it’s just so hard to be sure these days. As you might have noticed from our cover story this week, it seems like everybody and their dogs (or “Dogs Playing Poker?”) are hooked on poker right now. I mean, where exactly do you draw the line between healthy passion and destructive obsession?

A little over a year ago, I would have argued that my case was the former. Heading to Las Vegas in my tiny, beat-up Korean car for a night or two had, by that point, become a bi-monthly ritual.

From the first time I stepped onto the floor of a Las Vegas casino, I absolutely loved it. Here was a place where you could smoke, drink for free, buy collectable spoons, spend too much money on an over-produced circus act, eat a shrimp buffet for $10.99, visit a miniaturized stucco version of every major city in the world, and win money, all at the same time. I mean, what a town! It’s like the biggest, baddest cruise ship in the world, minus the rampant communicable diseases and Kathy Lee Gifford. Oh, and they have hookers! (If you’re into that sort of thing.)

But I haven’t been back to Las Vegas in a year. The reason? Well, let’s just say that I had a long, bad night at the blackjack tables. By the end of it, I had lost all the money I had to spend on textbooks for Winter 2003, and then some.

Of course, I learned several valuable lessons from my experience. I learned, for example, that almost all professors place copies of their required texts on reserve in College Library. And I learned that if you check out a reserve book within one hour of closing, you can keep it overnight with no additional charge.

But did I also learn gambling can be a dangerous hobby, that it leads to both moral and literal bankruptcy, and that I must vow never to sit down at a blackjack table again?

Not really. Yes, I did decide that for the remainder of my time in college, funds being as tight as they are, I should stay away from Vegas. Going without textbooks for a quarter is one thing, but what would happen if I had lost even more? I eat cereal or Ramen twice a day as it is. Does food cheaper than Ramen even exist?

But post-college is a different story. Having spent the last year in a self-imposed Las Vegas celibacy, I have to admit I’m itching to go back. And if I actually manage to find gainful employment at any point after I graduate in a few weeks (which is definitely in doubt, but the subject of an entirely different column), I would like to think that I could take my hard-earned dollars to a casino if I saw fit. It’s my (theoretical) money. It should be my (theoretical) decision, right?

Well, maybe not. Maybe I really do have a gambling addiction that could be characterized as out of control. I’m sure if I ever went to a Gamblers Anonymous meeting and shared with the people there my sincere feelings of absolute euphoria while gambling, they would agree that I should stay away from it. Something that feels that good, but can lead to such real and serious consequences, has to be bad for you.

But I’m still pretty confused about the whole thing, and it’s easy to see why. Gambling is a hugely popular industry in this country, and it seems like it is becoming more so every day. You can hardly turn on the television anymore without seeing Ben Affleck or one of his celebrity buddies enjoying a Texas Hold ’em tournament.

Even the government seems to be sending mixed messages about whether gambling is something people should be careful about. Casinos around here are relegated to Nevada and Indian reservations, but playing the Lotto is practically a civic duty.

I guess in the end, gambling is like any other semi-legal activity for which people need to take personal responsibility. And since I’ve managed to stay away from Vegas for a whole year, I think I can safely argue that I am capable of exercising an appropriate amount of restraint.

Students who don’t have much money should definitely be careful about gambling. But if I’m ever fantastically rich, you can bet you’ll be seeing me on the casino floor.

Maybe that is the real distinction: You only have a gambling problem if you can’t afford to lose.

E-mail Mathis at smathis@media.ucla.edu.