Archive for July, 2014

On Destiny and “game widows”

Destiny

“I hate this,” I piped up.

“What,” said Ted.

“Can I be honest?” I asked my husband-to-be. “Work, I don’t mind. Playing games, I don’t mind. This? This kills me. I hate this. I don’t like feeling like your mother. I’m not your mother.”

Then I gave the Destiny alpha my most damning condemnation:

“I don’t appreciate being made to feel like I don’t ‘get’ games.”

If I thought I’d loathed the Destiny alpha, wait’ll I witnessed the beta, which launched this month.

“Can you text the petsitter?” Ted asked me in a low voice. Our flight had just landed in Philadelphia.

“And tell her what,” I harrumphed. We were on our way to Aunt Doris’s house. The day after next, we were going to a massive family reunion, Ted’s. That night, we were heading to New Jersey to visit the other half of the family, also Ted’s. I hadn’t slept in at least a day. I was cranky.

“Can you ask her to turn on the PS4?” Ted asked.

He whimpered this. He was genuinely hurt—hurt!—that he wasn’t playing along with others during the Destiny beta.

And he was holding his Vita: He was planning to stream Destiny, from our living room in Texas, onto his Vita. The petsitter, meanwhile, was coming to the house twice a day to give my dog meds, walk her, feed the cats. On July 14, the petsitter had given my dog her heartworm pill.

“Are you,” I asked Ted, and I took a deep breath, “shitting me?”

“No?” Ted whispered.

“Absolutely not!” I bellowed. (We were standing at the airport’s downstairs baggage carousel.) “No! No, I am not doing that! I am not texting our dogsitter!”

After two long days of Ted’s visible suffering, I handed him my phone. “There,” I said.

On the screen: an iMessage exchange, in which I describe, in excruciating detail, how to plug in our television and its periphery, and how to turn on a Playstation 4.

“Thank you!” Ted said to me, with sincere gratitude.

His enthusiasm was short-lived, of course. “It isn’t working,” he sighed, setting his Vita on the kitchen table. How my heart thrilled to see him put the Vita down. He looked miserable.

I felt my heart’s thrill, and I noted it. “I hate feeling like I’m your mother,” I told Ted again. I quivered. “I just hate it.”

Read the rest of this entry »

Comments (33)

Page 1 of 11