Fun and Games
I am not, as a general rule, keen on board games. There have been far too many times at parties or gatherings when someone pulls out a board game or a box of cards and gleefully suggests that we all play a few rounds, and my heart sinks to my shoes. Inevitably, things start out pleasant and orderly, people take their turns, and everyone is all smiles. But someone pulls up another player on the rules; what starts out as playful banter turns rancidly to viscious arguments; everyone takes sides, now people are yelling, fingers are pointing ferociously in faces, and some poor soul, unable to contain themselves, flips the table and pieces, cards, paper money, instructions, game board all go flying, and the game is over. The game players slink away, ashamed and mournful, regretting their contributions to the goings-on. And yet those same folks seem to forget these experiences at the next gathering. Their minds do not seem to hang on to the unpleasant memories of the previous attempt at game play, and so someone pulls out a board game and suggests, with blissful glee, that we all play a few rounds. And my heart ends up back in my shoes…
Somehow, games that do not require boards and equipment are somewhat better on this front. I have played many rounds of charades with friends and I-Spy in the car on long journeys, and people seem a lot less likely to lose their tempers over “I spy with my little eye something that is green.” And yet there is still room for competition, the kind that seems to deeply upset people and make them growly and defensive. People who openly tell me they are competitive make me nervous - does that mean you find competition makes you better, pushes you to be your best self? Or does it mean you throw a temper tantrum when you don’t win? And I have gotten push-back about only children (of which I am one) being poor at playing games without winning, being sore losers, but my experience tells a different story. Often, watching siblings play a board game together is a bit like watching a global conflict building - it always starts small, but a few well-timed snarky comments and some aggressive pinching or punching, and it’s a full-on brawl. I am left wondering how these people have survived to adulthood without killing each other. As an only child playing in my room, did I understand the rules of chess and play it properly on my father’s chessboard? No, I did not. I treated the pieces like little dolls, the figures of a tiny wooden court, complete with king and queen, horses, and lines of well-behaved pawn children, who used marriage to secure alliances between the two sides. But neither did I throw the pieces and scream or stomp off, muttering about ‘proper rules’ and ‘order in society’. Frankly, I think my way is preferable, even if it ignores the rules of proper game play.
I am sure - in fact, I have to believe, if only for my own sanity - that there are lovely, calm people who can play a board game from start to finish without having a strop. So far, I have seen little evidence of these goodly people, but I know they are out there. If you are among their numbers, dear reader, pat yourself on the back and take satisfaction in your self-control. You are a rare and precious breed, and the world is better for your presence. But until I can get all of you in a room together with a Parcheesi board or a pack of cards, I think I’ll avoid board games and gently absent myself the next time someone pulls out a board game and suggests, with beatified smiles, that we play a few rounds. Thanks, but no thanks.
Jennifer