How Gaming Helped Me Understand Women

Ok, so this is really a misleading title. I don't understand women, but I learned something through video games that has given me insight into a particular area (not sure if I could be more vague).

To the uninitiated, the title seems like a contradiction. It is not the actually gameplay that has taught me; rather, the purchasing of games that inadvertently provided the lesson. Bare with me as I map this out.

Through various relationships with women, I have often been in the situation where a female feels compelled to show me her newly purchased clothing items. Some situations have been more enticing than others when I've experienced the fashion show (wink, wink nudge, nudge). Through all of these experiences, I have never understood why buying a plethora of clothing on sale that you may or may not use was a good idea. You are still spending as much money as though you bought a few items that you actually really want or need. I have over the years been better in not providing my opinion on this topic, which I erroneously thought was the superior perspective.  

I am a t-shirts, jeans, and sandals guy. I don't understand buying more than is needed. If I need a pair of jeans, I go straight to the section, if there is a sale, good, but otherwise I find my size, take them to the counter, purchase, and go home. None of this buying seeming superfluous items because they are hanging precariously on the sales rack. Just because you bought a clothing item at a drastically reduced price does not mean it has any more significance/potential because you know Goodwill or Salvation Army are going to get it near enough to brand-new because of your sale-purchase.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

I will concede that I have spent a lot of time show shopping before for a new pair of motorcycle boots. Yet, it is playing video games on my PC that the interesting parallel can be drawn. There is a platform called Steam that is a digital distributor of video games. You sign up for free, and can purchase games that are strictly digital downloads- no hard copies to loose or damage. You download the application on any computer, sign in, and your library is at your disposal to download. Steam has sales regularly. On top of this revolving sales, there are the seasonal sale. Hundreds of games are up to ninety percent off regular price. . We are not talking about the boring or bad games that no one really wants; rather, many titles that I did not want to pay the $60 when it was first released. During the seasonal sales, I have to stay away because I will scroll through and fill up my virtual cart. 

As of this writing I have 87 games via digital download. I have approximately six games downloaded to my PC and one game downloaded to my Mac. I generally play one to two games a week, usually the same games for an extended period of time. I now know how women feel when they see a clothing sale. There is something compelling about spending less and getting more items. The problem is it pulls you in and next thing you know you are blowing loads of cash for a bunch of stuff you don't necessary need.

One evening after a particular over indulgent purchase, I realized the connection. Instead of a significant other, I have to communicate with Madlaugher of my most recent purchases. After listing my most recent 'gets,' I realized that this is no different than the various women that have had to tell me about their clothing purchases. I started laughing- a lot. So thank you video games, Steam, Humble Bundle, GoG, you have enlightened me on an area of female activity that I was previously ignorant.

Until I ramble on again. . . 

I Went To The Bar . . .

This is part 1 of a 2 part series of me behaving like an idiot out on the town and why it is better for me to play games at home. The events in this story are mostly true according to my brain. Enjoy!

There are about 4 unfinished rambles that have either hit a wall or disgusted me. Woe is my artistic vision. I've been debating on writing up this story, but I figured that it might be fun to give you a snippet in the kind of trouble I sometimes get myself in, and part of the reason I don't go to bars often.

I went out with my cousin and one of her friends. They are a bit younger than me, but two girls that have good heads on their shoulders for not having full developed prefrontal cortexes (meaning the complete ability to make executive judgement has not fully developed, which doesn't happen until around age 25). Outside of that, they were funny and fun. Of course, there is a protective nature that comes out with hanging with your younger cousins causing one to lurk about (wait, do I lurk?).

Let's skip the boring parts. So we are fast forwarding to later in evening. bzzzzzzbzzzzbzzz (that's the sound fast forwarding makes in my head.) bzzzzzzbzzzzbzzz (taking pictures of homeless man) bzzzzzzbzzzzbzzz (getting called old) bzzzzzzbzzzzbzzz (drinking) bzzzzzzbzzzzbzzz (someone noticing all my gray hairs)bzzzzzzbzzzzbzzz . . .

The evening endedish at Barcadia, which is awesome outside that it is a little too swank for my taste, but they had amazing video games. I was talking to a female and in mid-flirt I had a nerdgasm for a retro The Simpsons arcade game. I had spent many of hours at arcades in my youth pumping that game full of quarters. Needless to say the female lost total interest (very use to it). Yet, I had a brilliant time playing as Homer and fighting hordes of yellow people.

After playing a bit, the girls had enough to drink, and it was time to send them back to the place they were staying. Herding them outside, I got them a cab. I have not taken many cabs in the city, heck I haven't taken many cabs in the U.S., but I have taken many, many cabs in India. This is an important piece of information because in my inebriated mind, one could only use cash for cabs. This was fact. Pay no mind that for the past year the local news has been covering how it is now mandatory for all taxi drivers to have a credit card machine in their taxi. So I gave the girls cash, and emphatically pressed upon the taxi driver not to try to rip them off or I would make like a Wookie. I don't think he felt threatened. Didn't he realize I was inferring that I would rip his own arms off and beat him with said arms? He smiled and promised to get them home safely.

Sending them off, I felt like I had my big boy underoos on. I got my own taxi. Heading down Magazine street, I saw a bar I enjoy. I grabbed the cab door, swung it open, and rolled on the pavement like Jackie Chan. Dusting myself off, I swaggered sauntered into the bar.

Here ends part one.

Until I ramble on again . . .