Rage against the machine.

A man sits at the far side of the room, looking solemn and glum.

It’s been a long, tiring day. He wanted to relax. He wanted to spend a few moments chilling out and doing something just for him; something that he loves. But all of that came crashing down around him in an instant.

I’m pretty sure nearly every woman out there has experienced this type of moment; when they don’t know what to say to comfort their other half, when they just can’t express in to words just how they really feel to an angry man on a train, a wrecked man on the bus. You’re surely wondering “what has happened to these men?” Have they lost a family member? Have they been fired from their job? Have they received some devastating news that they’re unable to put into words?

I was sat last night when this devastating mood overcame my husband. We were sat chatting away (or rather I was talking, thinking he was listening) when suddenly it hit. And I’ll tell you what it was – what this big, awful, hideous blow was – he’d lost his game.  His Pokemon game.

Game rage. This is when you’re having a normal conversation with your husband and he suddenly starts screaming, sighing, holding his head in his hands like it’s going to fall off – I’m sure you know what I’m referring to. Up until this point you didn’t realize he was playing his game; you didn’t realize he had his Nintendo DS stuffed down the side of the sofa. It’s the point in time when he acts as though his entire world’s collapsed.

Competitiveness is a big thing when it comes to game playing. That’s why I never play any games – I’m too competitive. I’m the person who cries in order to manipulate my competitor into going easy on me. I’m the one who sulks if I lose, and makes them pay afterwards for days … and days … and days.

I think the moment true rage takes over is when a person suddenly realizes that they’re not playing against anyone else, it’s an entirely solo affair, and so they only have themselves to blame for their loss. At least in a team game, you can blame the  other person.

It’s a cruel world.

The real cruelty for me is that if I destroyed the DS he’d know about it. If I hid it, he’d find it – he’s tenacious like that. I can’t win. Maybe I’ll give it to Noah to play with … (That’s a joke – but seriously …)


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