Yeah, I graduated from college last year. Big deal. I’m not sitting here playing World of Warcraft or living life as some role player nerd pretending I live in Narnia whose calloused hands are a direct result of assaulting myself to some digital warlock smashing guts. Let me enjoy my Madden, NBA 2K, NHL, and, if a higher power exists, the return of the NCAA football franchise in peace. But this simple request is apparently too much to ask. On a typical day I wake up, go to an extremely stressful job for 9-10 hours (while sneaking in bathroom breaks to write TFM columns) come home, force myself to go to the gym, shower, eat, and get ready for another day of my life passing by as I slowly move towards middle-aged depression.
So, in the waning hours of the night after the final whistle, the last pitch, and the 4th quarter buzzer, instead of binge watching Real Housewives, playing Scrabble, knitting a sweater, or whatever the fuck people with real jobs are supposed to do, I turn on my PS4 and trade reprehensibly immature insults with fellow gamers all over the world. So fucking what?
But yesterday, my happy routine of feigned content was interrupted abruptly and without warning. “Ew, you still play video games?” she said, looking at me like the screen had just illuminated with Jared Fogle’s greatest hits. “Yeah, is that a problem?” Her resting bitch face now permanently etched. “I mean, you’re like an adult” she snipes at me as if I’m going to all of a sudden realize the seemingly immense error of my ways. “Like, I’m fucking a guy that sits and plays video games.”
Fortunately, this attack took place during my twenty or so minutes of post-orgasm pure thinking bliss, during which I had thought my female companion fell asleep, leaving me alone for the cherry on top of what was a nice evening, a little online Madden as I await the release of 2018.
“I’m doing research” was the best response I could muster off of the top of my head. “Research?” She scoffs “Please don’t tell me you play in those tournaments or whatever.” I can already tell this “relationship” is cascading downward. “Yes. For that sports site I write for, this is the easiest way to learn the players and coaches.”
She looks at me like a parent listening to the patented “why this teacher hates me” excuse. “Whatever, do what you want.” She mercifully falls back asleep.
This encounter only strengthened my resolve: there is nothing wrong with video games, even that magic fantasy shit I can’t stand. There’s no difference when it comes to playing a game of Madden, watching hours of bad tv, surfing the internet, or reading some vapid magazine that women LOVE but think we should respect as they lambast our gaming habits.
Playing sports games actually does help these articles I write, as they serve as interactive encyclopedias of sports-related information, a phenomenal and cheap way to gamble and pass the time with friends, and an early morning ritual before tailgates in college (God do I miss drinking games and high-stakes-wager Madden on Saturday mornings).
Let me enjoy my video games in peace, regardless of my age..
Image via YouTube