I Made a BIG Mistake

Brendan had a birthday last week, so I did the normal thing and got him a gift.  He is a really hard person to buy stuff for because he only really loves a few things: bikes, craft beers, and..bikes?

To be fair, he thinks I'm hard to shop for too, even though I like books, candles, soaps, plants, jewelry, gift cards, spa treatments, and small, white kittens.  (Hint: this is your list, husband)

Anyway, I don't know anything about bikes, and I don't want to encourage the never-ending bike chatter that goes on around our house.  The Tour de France ended today (joy!) which meant we watched it and I commented on making a celebratory breakfast in honor of the ending.  That was taken with a grimace, a dirty look, and the quiet/sad treatment.  Yikes, and I hadn't even had my coffee yet!

I do indulge him in his beer fantasy every so often, buying him his favorite "special" beer.  Usually my "reward" shows up a few hours later, when while I'm lounging in bed reading a book and looking forward to being comatose, hubs crawls over with that wild-man look in his eye and the beer on his breath washes over me like a very soiled blanket. And then I'm like, uuggggghhh, why did I get him beer?    

I think I did something even stupider.  

I got him a video game.  *face palm*

And...dying now...it's one that requires a "gun".

As I type this hubs is next to me on the couch, brow furrowed, head swerving back and forth looking for bad guys, the sounds of gunfire and Russian blurting forth.  He has to "reload" every so often, which entails him violently shaking his "gun" (that's not an innuendo either).  

At first I was like, "Yay!  You're not riding/looking at/talking about/smelling bikes!"  But now I'm like, "Oh snap, next he's going to want to get one of those headphone things to link up with some other poor woman's husband who's playing this mess too."

I tried to do the whole thing where you play the game with them, like bridging the gap between the sexes, like "Hooray!  Let's have something in common!"  But, I'm useless with the "gun" and can't shake it in the violent-man style it needs to reload.  If I'm being really honest here the game freaks me out because zombie things are coming at me from all angles and it's stressful and makes me want to comfort myself with snack foods.  

So that's not working out too well.  

It was only fair though that he should have his Very Own Special video game to play, especially since I have two dance games that I play very irregularly.  But at least my games involve dance and movement and the burning of calories.  And you don't have to bleep my "games" or request that they not be played during Mr. Pickle's awake hours.  Plus, hello, I'm dancing, and that's a whole lot of fun to watch.  

Okay, I have to go.  His gun remote is now vibrating and sounds like a mosquito.  I couldn't make this up if I tried.  Going to bed now and dreading it because I brought him home a special beer today from Whole Foods.

And you know what that means.