The aforementioned is not a metaphor for romance. It is a combat cry for Chloe, a team leader from Tales of Legendia—a PS2 game that the husband has spent 218 hours with (am feeling very competitive here)
It's all my fault. On his last birthday, I gifted the beau (now the husband) twenty Play Station games. Not that I am totally magnanimous about his obsessions—just that I wanted to get him something he really wanted. I figured he would have bought the games anyway, so I may as well gift them to him.
Strange things happened thereafter. His buddies began to openly adore me, and even feel slightly envious of him. The wives and girlfriends of the buddies began to hate me for setting a bad precedent. As for the husband, I have clearly earned unlimited brownie points, despite his (unsuccessful) attempts to entice me into gaming. He assures me that I will always remain his first love though Play Station comes a close second. But the glimmer in his eye when he unwraps a new game is something else..
Our relationship has survived Reservoir Dogs, Final Fantasy 12, Godfather, Tales of Legendia and Grand Theft Auto. That makes five. But compute an average of 200 plus hours of gaming time for each (a day can pack in 3-4 hours, and a weekend about 10-15) and do the math—you'll feel a soft spot for me.
In the initial stages of our relationship, I noticed that his effort to sound nonchalant and camouflage his obsession didn't cut much ice. For example:
"We can have a cozy dinner and watch some TV or play scrabble and then I can game for x hours"
"We can hang at Shiro for a bit, grab a bite, head home and I can game all night. Yay! Tomorrow is Saturday!"
"I can drop you at the airport and get some gaming in before I go to work…"
"I am working late today, so I will be in a bad mood, so have to game for a few hours."
"I had a great day today, so have to game a few hours…"
It gets more convoluted…
He: I really need to buy 20 games this Saturday
Me: But you still have 200 that you haven't played…
He: You don't understand. If they stop selling them one day, and then I want them, I can't even have them… so I may as well stock up now…
Me: So can we donate the ones you are not playing?
He: Noooooooo.. what if I want to play them next year?
When Tales of Legendia came to an end, it was a stoic moment. The beau was mellow, as if he had lost a part of him. Even I felt a bit sad, like you do at the end of a long TV series. I had gotten to like Senny, the protagonist and hate Norma, his irritating teammate who strutted around singing, "Norma's the best. Ever. Yeah!"
Recently in a bonding moment, a recently-married colleague lamented on her husband's newly acquired gaming console. She claims they now converse by crashing virtual cars, shooting random strangers and running people over.
I quickly count my blessings.
PS: I am soon starting "Wives of Gamers Anonymous." Those interested may write to me. At least we can compare stories and feel better.