Sometimes I can’t tell which a woman finds less attractive: a history of infidelity or the mere ownership of an Xbox. I’ve never cheated on a girlfriend, but I’ve had plenty who act like I’m keeping another woman in the living room, hooked up to the TV.
Certainly women aren’t all anti-Xbox. Back in the ’70s and ’80s, my mom set the high scores in Galaga and Dig Dug at her neighborhood arcade, and later I learned to read as she played Zelda on the original Nintendo. Together we got every star in Super Mario 64. But I also know women who complain about their boyfriends’ enjoyment of video games. Some even go so far as to forbid a game console in the house. What gives?
Sure, the shouting might get annoying. Or the echo of gunshots down the hallway as I mow down an advancing mob of Nazis. But it’s just innocent fun. And while Grand Theft Auto might not seem to instill the loftiest of morals, video games do offer developmental benefits. Some can make you a better driver, while others hone methodical thinking or your ability to count and track multiple objects. That’s to say nothing of the stress-relief that squeezing off a couple headshots can provide after a rough day at the office.
And yeah, it’s one thing if I’m spending 12 hours a day glued to the TV, covered in Doritos dust and drool stains. But assuming the Xbox doesn’t turn me into Jabba the Hutt, what’s the big deal? Would you be this mad if I were watching a movie?
I can say that I’ve had been on the receiving end of a 14-hour Destiny binge and if you aren’t equipped with earplugs the constant explosions are enough to make you want to ram Q-tips into your eardrums. I mean, there are only so many times I can randomly yell RASPUTIN! in the apartment before I become delirious. I’m a good girlfriend to have, guys. I lived in an apartment where the guy had every game console known to man, so it’s hard to imagine a life without them. I’d guess it would be a bomb-free zone that didn’t make you unsuspectingly shit your pants every time there was a covert mission. All I was trying to do was read a nice book in my corner of the room and sometimes, my mind would drift off, tune in to whatever game he was playing and I would ask myself why it was so important to collect animal skins in the jungle.
I am fine with having consoles in the house as well, however I can see the appeal of them never being in the household in the first place. It’s like having a TV in the bedroom. Once that happens you’re opening up the door to Netflix binges, sweat pants, and Dorito crumbs in the bed. This means less intimacy and that can’t be good for a relationship. Perhaps a compromise, maybe he gets his own special room, with all his toys. Less 50 Shades of Grey, more man cave. It could be a retreat of sorts, one that would last 2 hours or so before he’s prepared to return to reality, one of the less virtual sort.
What do you guys think?