Diary of a Middle-aged Woman

My Husband Is a Poor Winner

This is a piece I wrote earlier this week. I have it in my portfolio, but thought you, my regular blog readers would like to see it. Enjoy!

"Ha! I win again! In your face!"

I lost yet another game of chess to my husband, Michael. This usually mild-mannered, gentle-giant of a man sat across from me gloating over his win. I flashed-back to all the other times he had beaten me at various activities from board games to miniature golf. There was no denying that he is definitely a poor winner.

The best illustration of his competitve nature was the time my daughter received Mr. Bucket for Christmas. We took the game to our kitchen so Mr. Bucket could spin freely and shoot the balls across the floor. As my daughter, nephew and I stood ready with our little scoopers, my husband started the game. Mr. Bucket spun around and shot out the first ball - mine. As I bent over to scoop it up, Michael whacked it across the room. He did that with each ball that shot out of Mr. Bucket's mouth that wasn't his. I tried to get between his six foot five inch, two hundred and fifteen pound frame and Mr. Bucket, but was promptly 'butt checked' by Michael. I flew across the room. My nephew and I tried desperately to chase after the balls and get them to the bucket before Michael, but failed miserably. Michael won and stood triumphant with Mr. Bucket held high over his head - looking for applause. My poor daughter, freaked out by the whole incident, stood in the corner of the kitchen watching with wide-eyes and the scooper in her hand - unused. She never played with Mr. Bucket after that. To this day, she has an aversion to anything bucket-shaped.

The following Christmas it was the board game Don't Wake Daddy. Again, the sheer competitveness of Michael shined through.

"You can't beat me! I win again! You two are LOO-OO-SERS!"

Then came Uno. My husband became so competitve with this game that we had to discontinue playing it. The arguments created during the game carried over into everyday life. We gave each other the silent treatment for days after a rousing match.

Next we tried Five Hundred Rummie. Michael turned it into the Superbowl of Card Games. During one of our matches I realized he made up rules. I had to buy a Hoyle Book of Card Games to prove him wrong on several of his 'rules'. Again, another game that we couldn't play with him.

His obnoxius behavior is displayed each time he wins anything. The times when my daughter or I beat him, he automatically gives the classic whiner excuses of, "You cheated!" or "I wasn't ready yet!"

Of course we can't hear him because we're too busy doing our victory dance in the middle of the room. Beating Michael and being more obnoxious than him has become our new family game.