Nothing But A Number?
There are times when I feel as though I’ve outgrown games.
It’s usually late in the evening, when the wife and kids are tucked-up in bed and I have a couple of hours of dedicated ‘man-time’ in which to indulge myself. A fresh beer is usually open on the floor next to me, the headphones are snugly in place and the cushions are arranged to perfection – and then it hits me: I really can’t be arsed playing a game. Like, at all.
Now, I used to fight through these moments and literally force myself to glean some pleasure from the experience – but now I’m approaching forty, I just simply give in and watch a movie instead.
What does it mean when you feel guilty about wilfully ignoring your favourite hobby?
I could, quite simply, just be getting too old for it all. Gaming’s often seen as a young man’s, erm, game – and I’m almost halfway to eighty, so it’s maybe time to hang up the gamepads? But then again, if it was just an age thing, you’d’ve thought that I would’ve given up long before now. Maybe it’s just a bit of good, old-fashioned depression? Life can be tough at times, y’know, and they say that when you stop wanting to do the things that you love, that it’s one of the hallmark signs. But you’d think that I’d be grumpy and gloomy all of the time if that was the case – which I’m certainly not.
So what is it?
Well, today I think I found out the answer: I’m just no longer a nocturnal gamer.
See, today was one of those rare occasions when the family was out, the house was quiet and I had no jobs to do. So I sat down for a bit of a gaming session – and felt like a young man again. Six hours have flown by in the blink of an eye and I’ve enjoyed gaming more than I have in many a month. Fancy that: all I needed was re-charged batteries.
After a hard day’s work at the office and a hard evening’s work dealing with the kids before bedtime, it’s no wonder there’s not enough fuel left in the tank for an enjoyable gaming session. We perhaps take for granted what this ‘pass-time’ demands of our senses; expecting to be able to enjoy it when I’m on my last legs was perhaps a little foolish. Films are a passive experience, so it’s no wonder they vie for more of my attention of late.
So maybe, after all, I am just getting too old – for nocturnal gaming at least. At least there’s something to look forward to in the care home then, when the daytimes need filling with something, well, ‘constructive’.
Either that or I could ask Mrs. Martin and the boys for some dedicated, uninterrupted gaming time each afternoon. I’m quite sure they’ll be accommodating. Maybe.
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Husband. Parent. Gamer. Go figure.