by Samantha Evans

From Snakes & Ladders with the babysitter to M.A.S.H. in the backseat to Red Rover on the playground (until the class runt broke his arm), we all grow up playing games. In order for us to eat our Brussels sprouts or brush our teeth our parents created games as a way of making life “fun!” If games were played in childhood to manipulate and trick, is it really all that surprising that we continue to play them as adults? I was no fool; I ate around those bitter green balls. Today, I still resist throwing the dice, but unfortunately, others seem more than willing to throw it for me, because, as I learned playing Scrabble with the cat all those years ago, games are more fun when the other person plays along. In fact, unbeknownst to some, matches of flirting can only be played in doubles’ courts. But is it possible that we are not all born with the need to deceive and mislead? What about those of us who drunkenly profess our love after three too pitchers of Labatt Blue? Are we alone, setting sail to Freaks Island?

In a rare moment of self reflection (I’m partial to frequent moments of self-indulgence with little reflection), I paused to think what exactly games may represent. Why is complacent indifference the ultimate triumph in a new relationship? We all like receiving texts telling us that we are as cool as the other side of the pillow, so why hold back? Maybe games are a socially acceptable manifestation of our fear of the unknown—à la Good Will Hunting: “She’s like, perfect right now; I don’t want to ruin that”. Really, games are just another form of anticipation, foreplay before the main event. The longer we pussyfoot around the issue, the more fun it is when we finally give in to our emotions. So, do those of us who tell it how it is (“It hurts so much to love someone and not have them love you baaaack!”) simply require immediate self gratification? Such as when I told everyone at the lunch table that all the cool kids ate their Jello before their sandwiches? And if so, why do I grow bored with anything (or anyone) that offers itself to me so willingly? To complicate matters further, what happens when you dive in head first and then try to backsplash to the dock? I’ll tell you what: confused text messages, angry rants and spoiled Friday nights. So let’s play a game of Truth or Dare… I dare you to tell him how you truthfully feel. Make that a double dare.