Did You Just Tell Me To Suck It?!?!

I have now discovered what is going to be the death of my marriage. Words With Friends…or more lovingly referred to as WWF. Unbelievable? Let me explain…

I’m a board game junkie. Having grown up in a overly testosteroned family (I have four brothers) who are all extremely competitive, I took my victories where I could…where my wits outmatched their brawn: on the game board. I’ll admit, it’s my thrill, and I’m extremely good at some of these games. At Othello, I’m near unbeatable (and I’m teaching Thing 1 who has already, at the tender age of six, bested her grandparents, her nanny and her father). At Monopoly, I will own you after I’ve slowly and conspicuously taken over the board (please note that Monopoly was a full contact sport in my house…and very few will ever indulge me any more). And Scrabble. Ahhh, Scrabble.

While my mouth gushes foul words that would make a trucker run for cover, I have that luxury. See, my vocabulary is vast. A bit superfluous actually. Who walks around stating things like, “Quite contrary to your introspection, I hypothesize that most are completely copacetic with their exigency”? I’d get stared at even more than I already do (I like to pretend it’s my good looks). Instead, I relish unleashing my plethora of locutions on the unsuspecting Scrabble adversary. Enter WWF.

Here is a game that when played online with friends, offers: online cheats, multiple word attempts until you get just the precise arrangement of letters to form a word one couldn’t define if their life depended on it (with no tête-à-tête in which one may challenge the proposed ‘word’ attempt) and no time limits. Surely, you can see how this is devastating. I thought it an amusing way to play with my husband, when most nights we’re too pooped to do much more than snuggle on the couch watching our favorite shows (Which, for the record are NOT comedies. Stop recommending them to us. We don’t find them funny. Ever.)…I digress.

It’s with a heavy heart that I admit the fault is all mine. I started this. It was my brain-child, and I invited him to play. Little did I know that one night I would hear the explosive, “SUCK ON THAT…48 POINT WORD. HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW?!?!” echoed from my kitchen. How was I to know that while staring at my intangible rack (God, how I hate that I can’t touch these tiles…I’ve unearthed just how tactile I am) of seven consonants for the third round in a row; that the monster I created would take pleasure in announcing, “You gave me the triple word square, just wait ‘til you see this…I’m going to crush you!!!” Or, “HAHA! I don’t even know what that word means, but it sure as hell gave me 38 points!” [dying a little inside knowing he’ll never even look it up to find out it’s meaning]

Yes, I’ve had my figurative ass handed to me by the man who went to school on a math scholarship. Who had a College Dean ask his mother what language was spoken in their home because his use of the English language was so atrocious. Whose grad school papers I lovingly wasted entire red pens upon in the editing process… And I can’t help but wonder – is it true that “that which doesn’t kill us make us stronger”? If so, I’m thinking my marriage might not dissolve after all…you know, after I rip out his tongue.