My husband and I have a deal. He can buy as many video games as he wants as long as he can afford them. "Afford them," you ask, "aren't you a kept woman? Doesn't he bring home all the bacon?"
Yes, yes he does. Like a 50's housewife I get a monthly allowance. Like a man of the new millennium he does too.
My fun money falls by the wayside at Starbucks and Panera and Dunkin' Donuts and on the occasional girls night out. Clearly, I am motivated by coffee and food. His tab is run up at Game Stop and Game Stop and Game Stop and Banana Republic. He is motivated by video games and sweaters.
So tonight, when I returned from an aforementioned girls night out, I did not find my husband playing Saints Row: The Third as I fully expected. Instead, I found him Sky-riming it up yet again. (I hear you can play that game for infinity or some such frame of time.)
He seemed to be enjoying himself. I certainly enjoyed my evening. Burgers and beer at a local joint where, if you want, you can ask them to put peanut butter on your buns. (The buns of your burger, people, the buns of your burger.) Though, the latter suggestion almost seems to make more sense.
Long story short, the hubs is tapped out. He has no money left. His sad copy of Saints Row is sitting lonely in a Game Stop somewhere and he is too broke to buy. There have just been too many good games to get. Video game launch season is taking it out of everyone in every way. Spending is way up (not mine, just his) marriages are disintegrating (not mine again) and children are being ignored (again, not mine, of course), but we might just come out of this recession yet.