Bruised feelings? It’s all in the game
OUR New Year’s Eve was all fun and games until someone suggested we bring out Taboo.
Despite the name, it seemed harmless enough -- a simple word guessing game that involved no trivia stresses or complicated battle strategies.
But after a few rounds, the evening took a turn for the worst. The hostess, who was struggling to convey the words on her cards, started getting annoyed at her husband, who was winning -- and loving it.
“Why do you always have to get so competitive?” she finally burst out, tears gathering in her eyes. “It’s just a game.”
And with that, the game was over.
That wasn’t the only game-induced relationship meltdown I heard about this holiday season. A friend of mine told me she was rethinking her new love interest after witnessing him go ballistic on a player who had broken a rule during a game of Cranium. He apparently harped on the violation to the point of embarrassment.
“It’s really not surprising,” she said, as we dissected the date on the phone. “It’s just like how he can never let an argument go.”
And a girl once broke up with my roommate because he made her feel stupid during a game of Trivial Pursuit. Apparently, she’d always felt insecure that he was more book-smart than her. But seeing all those pieces of the pie just made it all the more clear.
There’s just something about games that shines a spotlight on our relationship insecurities or brings out our inner 6-year-old. They can make us mean, whiny and sometimes even a tattler.
Maybe it’s because there’s some primal need to be the victor in an environment where we all start off as equals -- and winning is as close as a few clues away.
Or maybe it’s just easy to hide behind the “game” and let loose with behaviors we usually keep in check: You can pretend you’re mad about something in the game, when you’re really annoyed that your boyfriend never picks up his dirty socks, or worse.
Then again, I was Tabooed once.
At a long weekend in Mammoth Lakes with my boyfriend and some friends, we brought out the game after a couple of margaritas. Couples vs. Couples. I thought my beau and I would be unstoppable.
I was confident he’d quickly get my references to the words in question. I rattled off inside jokes and threw in references to places we’d been together.
But I was met with puzzled look after puzzled look. I got desperate and started using dictionary-type definitions, secretly fearing we weren’t soul mates after all. How are we supposed to be a couple if he can’t even understand clues like “my yearly New Year’s resolution?” (Answer: Exercise.)
I managed to swallow my frustration, but, to this day, he’d rather play on the opposing team.
Still, we have had positive experiences. Like the time we got stuck in a little airport on the coast of Honduras and entertained ourselves with the card game Uno while a tropical storm brewed. Eventually, we were so bored that we invented our own version: Cheating Uno.
The object of the revised game: Win at all costs (even if it meant hiding cards in your pockets).
If our game-playing styles are indicators of latent desires, that doesn’t bode well for us. Apparently we’re cool with cheating as long as no one gets caught?
I’m not going to read too much into it. After all -- as the New Year’s party hostess so clearly articulated -- it’s only a game.