Playing Games

I’ve never been very good at playing games. And no, I’m not talking about the mental, mind-grueling, wait three days before calling, don’t pick up the phone on the first ring, wait until he opens the car door kind of games. I’m talking about anything that involves moveable pieces, joy sticks or the like, balls, and using any of my limbs. Yes, there are a few games that I’m not terrible at like Yahtzee, pinball machines, and Clue (to my family, again, I swear I’ve never, ever cheated, I’m just gifted!). But, usually, I’m so bad that it’s kind of embarrassing. I try, I have no problem trying. I should get major points for trying. But I fail often and badly, which leads to much unintended, slap-stick humor for my dates.

Back in the day, I used to play darts when I would go out with my friends. I was truly terrible. I often hit the wall. More than once I broke darts this way. My aim was not good and people were fearful they would lose an eye. I only got worse when I had a drink. So, when Collin suggested darts in the midst of beers, I politely tried to dissuade him. “Really, I shouldn’t”, I said demurely. He mistook this for flirtation and a desire to dart and we were soon lined up in front of the bullseye. My first two attempts hit the wall. People moved away from us. Collin struggled to keep a straight face. The third dart managed to hit the board before drooping and clanking to the floor. He burst out, a guffaw so great I wished the floor would swallow me whole. I shrugged my shoulders and recommended that I move from active duty to the cheering section.

There is an awesome bar that has live jazz called Fat Cat. In addition to music, it is also full of games – checker boards, pool tables, ping pong tables. Sam was dying to go there for the tunes, at least this is what he told me. But once there, he really wanted to play ping pong. I tried to get out of it but before I knew it I had a paddle in my hand. I missed the ball nearly every time, I would have had more luck if I’d just closed my eyes. When I did manage it hit the ball, it went zipping off through the air to strike someone or interrupt another game. I spent most of the night crawling under pool tables and tripping over feet to find the little devil. Needless to say, Sam won and the management forbid me to play. Ever again. In fact, they may or may not have snapped my picture and kept it on file for the doorman so that he could bar my future entrance. It was that bad.

Ed wanted to go bowling. I knew I was in big trouble but we were at a mall that had a bowling alley and it was raining and the movie we had wanted to see was sold out. “Drats”, I said, “I don’t have socks”. I pointed to my sandaled feet. “They sell socks,” he replied with a grin. Ed was good, I was not. After many gutter balls, Ed kindly said, “it’s all about the release” and then showed me in slow motion what to do. I stood, waited for the perfect moment then swung my ball back as I moved forward. It was going to be great, I could feel it! I swung the ball out, and, and, well I got caught up in the moment and I forgot to release. With a thump, my whole body landed in the lane, my ball still on my hand. Of course, Ed rushed to my side as he tried not to laugh. He kind of gave himself away though when he mentioned his desire to have caught the whole thing on video. I didn’t have the heart to admit that once upon a time I’d taken a bowling class, in college, for credit!

There are those who are naturals and those who can become better with time. I am neither of these and unless my dates are needing some comic release, it is probably best I remain a spectator. Although, I’m always up for Clue!