There’s a new breed of women around. You’ll recognize them by their haunted eyes, the angry set of their mouths. They’re everywhere you go, a little bit understimulated, a little bit cranky. They’re frustrated and out of sorts; starving for attention. These women used to be normal, used to be cool and well-fucked and smiling. But then something came along to kill their happiness.
That something is Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3.
These video game widows used to be in relationships. Some of them happy, some of them maybe not so much. But either way, they used to have a man in their lives to talk to and laugh with and worry about. And fuck. When they got home from a long workday, there used to be a a vibrant smiling man there to play with. Until that fucking game along and shitted things up.
These women now come home to blank eyed, cramped fingered lumps of clay whose asses appear to be permanently welded to the couch. Who can barely spare half a glance in their direction before returning their attention to the screen, screaming “YES! DID YOU SEE THAT KILL?!?” to one of their compatriots via the headset that is permanently affixed to their heads.
These women used to have men. Now they have overgrown teenage boys who are so obsessed with their pointstreaks that they can’t put their controllers down long enough to throw a fuck into their girls.
And I am here to tell you this: if you are one of these men, you are failing at life.
Say for example you go away for 5 days just as this
retarded game was released, during which time you do not talk to your girl at all. When you return from your trip, your first priority should not be to throw on your geeky light-up headset and crack open your game because you need to “get caught up”, it should be to PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR GIRL. And no, letting her watch you play via video chat while you scream your head off every time you get killed does not count as paying attention to your girl.
That’s just a random example pulled from my ass that in no way reflects what is going on in my own life :-/
As I was saying, you men need to get some perspective about your shit and you need to do it quickfast and in a hurry. In no way, shape, or form is it okay for you to be logging eight hours a day on this fucking game and 15 minutes with your girl. That shit is backwards. Before you log into XBox Live, I need to you to ask yourself “when is the last time I logged into my girl’s pussy?”.
Get your house in order my dudes.
Now before I lose every last cool girl point I ever had, let me say this: I’m not really mad at your game. I’m sure it’s cool and fun and interesting and shit. And I’m sure clocking serious hours per week playing it does amazing things to your hand-eye coordination. I can imagine that playing it while squawking into your headset with all your boys is a major bonding experience and I’m sure all those kills you rack up makes you feel very manly. Yeah yeah yeah – some amazing and wonderful things probably happen when you play your
fucking stupid ass game. I get that. I support that. There are worse ways you could be spending your time.
I need you men to realize that while you’re sitting in front of your tv communing with Yuri and attempting to apprehend Makarov, there is a world going on around you that requires your attention. And before you plop your ass down in front of the television to deploy Team Metal to Hamburg to rescue the U.S. Vice President from a hostage situation
(God this shit is really just so stupid), you need to do your due diligence with your girl. Can you maybe take an hour out of your day to look at her with both eyes rather than throwing quick glances at her while obsessively looking back at your screen? Could you talk to her, and actually listen to her responses rather than interrupting her every six seconds to scream your head off at whatever bullshit just happened on your screen? Could you maybe get up off your duff when she walks into the room and – oh I don’t know – maybe hug her? Greet her with something better than an unintelligible grunt? Oh and I know this is just a pipe dream, but do you think you could take an hour away from your game to actually HAVE SEX WITH YOUR GIRL before devoting your entire evening to this fucking asinine game?
Is this really asking too much?
Men, listen to me. Your
ridiculous obsession with this game is creating a coterie of women who are starving for affection. And while under normal circumstances I’d caution you that a woman who is starving for attention is highly susceptible to the attentions of another man, let’s be real – there are no men to be found these days because they’re all playing this fucking stupid ass game. But that doesn’t mean you’re in the clear. Because while you and every man you know is off fighting World War III, your girl is stewing in her juices. And on that mythical magical majestical day when you finally beat that game, when you avenge Soap and kill Makarov once and for all (Lord it is so fucking dumb), you know what you’re left with? A fucking cranky bitch that you created and you now have to deal with. And no one wants that.
So men I beg you – play your game if that’s what you’re into. But handle your business with your girl first. Find a way to divide your attention between Captain Soap and Wifey and end the cycle of video game widowhood once and for all.
Oh and if you are actually paying for Call of Duty Elite service I need you to break up with your girl and log off of life immediately. You are obviously not fit for human consumption.
But what say you guys? Ladies is your man paying more attention to Captain Price than he is to you
or is that just Mr. Max? Men – are you fucking your girls before you turn on your XBox? Anyone out there effing this game with me? Speak your piece in the comments.