© 2011 Timmy Tamisiea. All rights reserved. So hot . . . from a safe distance . . . but so hot.

17/365 – Gamer

GAMER

Inside every Gerard Butlar and socially awkward, virginal nerd is struggling to get out.

What woman would want a man who’s muscle bound physique rips apart the head of father Zeus in a fit of vengeful rage?  Right?  What woman would want to ravage a man who can sneak undetected through the streets of Rome, silently assassinating the dark figures of Renaissance Italy?  Seriously.  What lady would want a wedding ring from the man who braved the apocalyptic wastelands of Washington DC in order to bring clean water to the masses?  Really.  What female gets weak in the knees, drooling and melting just thinking about her man hopping into sewer pipes and transporting himself to the next castle?

Uh uh! Oh no! They're gonna get so much ass tonight!

 

I’ll tell you who does – my wife!  Suckers!

I’m a gamer.  A married gamer at that.  Actually, I wouldn’t even put myself up there with hardcore gamers.  I hate online play and I really only buy used games.  Hardcore gamers are scary, lifeless drones who’ve somehow found a bottomless pit of disposable income to buy dozens of $60.00 games a month.

I think the currency exchange for these is like 60 Dollars US for every 1 SMB Coin.

I mean, these guys have difficult decision to make everyday:

It's choices like these that make people lots of bling.

 

No, I can’t really pigeon hole myself into that category.  But, none the less – and to my own embarrassment – I spend enough time playing xBox and Playstation 3 to be labeled a casual gamer at the least.  I prefer the title “nerd” as that encompasses all aspects of my life that fall under “things that could easily alienate me from “doucebags” in a bar” (Who I’m happy to be alienated from.)  Comics.  Video Games.  Computers programs.  Toys.

Yeah, bro-heim. One more of these and I'll bet I'll look just right to take home.

However, gaming doesn’t really bode well in the romace category.  I’ve tried to get Megan into video games but that was a crash and burn situation.  Bless her heart, about 6 months she told me she really wanted to find a video game we could both play.  What?  Really?  YES!  Let’s do this.  So I grabbed her by the hand and skipped joyfully to the local Gamestop.  Like proud, socially awkward father, I say, “Okay, sweetheart., choose any game want.  My treat.”  Wow, I’m a super hot stud!  Lines like these are only found in movies . . . anyway, I’m being as levelheaded and realistic as possible.  I’m not expecting her to knuckle down and slap Gears of War or Metal of Honor on the counter and scream bloody muder in anticipation of our “couples only” slaughterfest we’ll engage in over the next few hours.  No.  At the most, maybe she’ll come back with some CSI Miami offshoot or even Little Big Planet.

So hot . . . from a safe distance . . . but so hot.

 

She comes back with this:

 

It’s her choice and I have to live with it.  She has to live with it.  We’re married now so we both have to live with it.  But I can not help but wonder – doesn’t this defeat the purpose of gaming.  I mean, look at the box carefully . . . yeah, that’s Twister!  TWISTER!  F’ing Twister.  Just shy from sticking a controller up our butts, I wonder, how can we play Twister on xBox?   Well, don’t worry, we can, and its terribly repetitive and lacks all the luster of having someone ass in your face as they attempt a “right hand to blue” move.  I mean, wasn’t twinster just a sanctioned version of spin the bottle – a socially acceptable way to stick our faces where they don’t belong – all for 15.95.

Now it’s been reduced to this:

Snore.

You’re goal: hit the right buttons at the right time to make Mr. Potato Head dance.  Damn-it!  That’s not even close to Twister.  Where’s the awkward human tunnels?  Where’s the faint smell of crotch odor as some girl bends over backward in the name of victory.   Where the hell is the sexual tension?  Unless Mr. Potato HEad grows a torso, I don;t think this is going to be even remotely close to the real Twister.  As I said, video gaming isn’t much of an aphrodesiac.  I appreciate the effore from my then Fiancée.  Itwas very cute when she brought the game up.  But I can safely say, she was just as disappointed as I was.

So, this week we will probably do what we always do when it comes to my gaming.  Make hot passionate love?  No.  At least not with the video game version of Twister.  Maybe the video game version of boggle will do that, but I’m deep into Batman: Arkham City.  So I’ll couch surf while Megan watches a re-run of Criminal Minds for the umpteenth time in our bedroom.

Marriage!

Lies. All lies.

 

There we go. That's more like it.

PS – Tomorrow I’ll continue in more detail about why gaming can be really bad for a relationship and really good.

 

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