The #Gamer

Nearly every guy’s dream is to date a girl who loves films, series, can share a beer or two, has the same interests and… loves gaming (I’m not saying that this is true for every guy out there but being an avid gamer myself, at times, it sometimes is more fun to play a co-op fragging a few hundred zombies rather than go out for dinner at some posh restaurant.

This particular girl called Skye (It’s not her real name but it was more or less just obscure), I met on an evening out with some work colleagues at a salsa bar; she was of medium build, blonde hair cut in layers and dark grey stormy eyes. She appeared pretty bored sitting on a bar stool with a beer bottle in her hand. The rest of her friends had taken over the dance floor and were boogieing their hearts out with countless strangers and, even, a few co-workers of mine; their shapes and sizes varied from big-boned and round to fit and lean.

Several foreign looking men had already tried approaching her but were apparently shot down within seconds of conversing with her. She must either have had some potent venom at her disposal to get rid of men she disliked or had a simple dislike for men in general, I was hoping that it was the former... .

I tempted fate that evening. I asked the bartender for “Liquid courage”, whereby he mixed several coloured alcoholic beverages together and created a strong and bitter smelling beverage. He laughed as I took one long look at it and drank it in one quaff – the burning feeling along with the antiseptic taste of something-like Vodka, travelled down from my throat to my stomach.

I approached her with a smile and she said, “Not another idiot.” I looked baffled for a moment, then she said, “Tell me who these people are: Abe Sapien, Arthas, Dr. Bishop and Dante? Then maybe we can get to know each other better.”

I laughed as I realised that she had developed a personal screening process that would only be understood by a fellow gamer. Smooth as silk, I slid in the stool next to her and stated confidently, rattling them off using my fingers, “Hell boy, Warcraft 3, Fringe and… Devil May Cry.” 

So BADASS! Wish they made the third film though!

The Way Strategy was meant to be played! Heroes, Armies... What else? 

X-Files mixed with Warehouse 13 and a dash of Elementary!

The Skills! The Explosions! Everything a Gamer could wish for!

She beamed and we started chatting about everything from gaming to films and other series. We spent the evening drinking and; fooling around and making fun of the other patrons in the bar. At some point during the night my memory became a blur; I remember images of kissing her and driving to her house but even those were just fleeting images.

(At this point, I think I should inform everyone that I am unable to drink alcohol – not due to health issues, but simply because I am not a great fan of the taste. I’m over 80kg and over the course of my life, I can count on my ten fingers, the number of times I have drunk alcohol. The second issue that I should inform you about is that when I drink even the minimalist amounts of alcohol, I seem to blackout and lose my memory until I wake up in some unknown place with scraps of information left as a reminder from what had transpired that past night. The third and final issue… soft drinks seem to put me in a temporary hypomanic state which still allows me to function normally but without any of the usual inhibitions. Sometimes this is even accompanied by memory blackouts… - I work in the health profession and yet… even I wonder how that is possible.)

That morning, I woke up to a beautiful, golden sunrise over the cliffs in the south of my country. There were several things I noticed:

• 1.      I was the lack of clothing covering my body. I was wearing a fuchsia coloured shirt, my underwear and black pair of Nike Flytops. (I still have no clue where the rest of my clothes are)
• 2.      There was a pink lace bra on the floor in my car.
• 3.      I had no idea where I was or how I got there.

Before any of you think that I did a Bluebeard and buried her somewhere, I saw her a few days later inside the same bar sending off another guy to the backburner – the only conciliation I had was that once she noticed me there, she winked, and then walked past whispering, “I want my bra back. Maybe you can drop it off later.” Her fingers lingered across my back, before exiting the club.

I really would have… had I remembered where I she lived… It still lies like a lonely survivor in the back of my wardrobe.

Kitty B: Bitter…antiseptic taste…you’re a lightweight…complete blackout…Why do I have a feeling that the bartender put in absinthe in your Liquid Courage.