Maybe I could just make them disappear. You know, real quiet like…

Dear Anita,

I am at a loss!

Over the past several months I have watched my husband slowly disappear, drawn helpless toward the playful seductress that is…Rocket League. Slave to her every update, desperate to be granted her Challenger Elite status, all his free time is now devoted solely to her. And I am left lonely. And heartsick. And entirely bitter.

What is Rocket League you ask?

It’s a PC game…where you play what is essentially soccer…with what can only be described as a gaudy, ridiculous RC car. Want to head butt a ball towards a goal with a sports car in a top hat? Sure! Want to mod your exhaust to appear as the nauseous green clouds of an egg fart? Great! Or perhaps you’re the pink glitter type? Also cool!

Why is this a thing?! I just don’t understand the appeal! Why spend hours decking out a fake car only to be matched up against teenagers who encourage you to, “prepare yourself for the impending anal carnage,” before every match?

Sweet baby Jesus, why?

To safeguard me from the more heinous aspects of his addiction, my husband has started playing with headphones. I’m not really sure this is an improvement. As I cuddle into my chenille throw, mystery novel in hand, chamomile tea steaming on my bedside, my introvert’s bliss is interrupted by heavy breathing, guttural grunting, and the thunderous booming of my husband’s heavy feet on the wood laminate. God only knows what our downstairs neighbors think!

I’ve thought for weeks that this particular game would play her course and be dropped, forgotten as the Red Dead Redemptions and Grand Theft Autos before her, but no. It has been over six months. Over six months and still she is here, strong and garish as ever. I may have to accept that Rocket League is here to stay and find a way to accept my second fiddle status.

Pray for me!

And maybe also for the poor, sweet ladies who live below us. Oh God, is this the source of the shy smiles they throw us?!

Oh God!