I like games. Role playing games, board games, computer games, card games. I enjoy them. I can have just as good of a time losing as I do winning. Really. The laughing, the groaning, the good luck and the bad. Sometimes the ridiculously bad luck that goes around on occasion is entirely memorable entertainment. I feel like mostly, I'm a good winner and a good loser. Mostly.
Except when the whiney little kid comes out of hiding. Like she did last weekend. I started something in the game that we eventually just had to run away from, and it took us hours to even get to the point where we could. I was frustrated, feeling rather overwhelmed and at fault. Then, the poor loser came out. I was rather mortified with myself for getting that worked up. Of course I didn't yell or cuss or slam things around, but I did get a little teary-eyed. I hope no one noticed.
I think knowing that I was being a poor loser (and really didn't even loose anything) made me feel worse, and definitely made me feel less mature (and not in a fun way). Sigh. How disappointing to know that I can still feel like "everyone" is picking on me, I can't do "anything" right, and should I stomp my feet now? Pu-leeze.