Classical Geek Theatre: Thou shalt not covet another game console

Until recently, I was involved in a relationship with a girl. Perhaps what is most noteworthy about said relationship is she had another boyfriend. He had gone to Germany for the semester, and well, things just sort of happened.

Despite the moral fiber engrained in me by Sesame Street, I did not feel guilty about this. Perhaps I should have, but I simply didn't. I don't know why, maybe it was because I never met him. To me, he was just a faceless name in a goofy European country.

The important thing is, there wasn't even a meager fragment of guilt present.

This other guy though, had a Playstation 2. In Germany, a Playstation 2 is a sign of one who desecrates the schnitzelbank, so he decided to leave it with his trustworthy girlfriend (the one I was "seeing"). One day, she asked me if I wanted to keep it at my apartment.

I said, "Well, of course I do!" But I didn't say that right away. Somehow, it felt sort of wrong.

Nonetheless, the sleek black console of home-gaming goodness coaxed me into letting it rest under my television for nearly a week. It's ebony exterior and cool, blue highlights appeared oddly at home sitting by my entertainment center. A machination of the devil himself, it complemented my television the way the Ring of Power complements Frodo Baggins' neck.

Together, The Girl and I played Final Fantasy 10 in a tryst that was surely not blessed by the gods above. We explored a fantasy world filled with wonders behind the back of the man in Deutschland. Hand-in-hand, we traveled a pixilated paradise. It was ardent, yet tragically Punic. The Playstation 2 was very pleased indeed.

When The Girl was not there, I would indulge in the gaming delights of Twisted Metal Black and Grand Theft Auto 3 - unadulterated, gluttonous, selfish gaming. It was during the first of these solo-gaming sessions when I realized my sin.

It hit me when I saved my game on his memory card. That is when I felt like I was using someone else's restroom.

My conscience flared up, it screamed into my ears "Alignment check! Alignment check!"

What a horrible person I had been. Setting up his Playstation 2 in my room without getting permission was practically stealing. His games sat on my shelf. My hands sweat on his controllers. Looking around at his saved games was like rummaging around his underwear drawer.

The Girl, she was her own person. She could make her own decisions; she had her own thoughts and feelings. It was, and still is, doubtless in my mind that she did not somehow "belong" to The Other Guy. I very well believe I loved her and I don't have the slightest bit of shame because of it. All is fair in love and war.

But the Playstation 2? A man's videogame console invariably belongs to the man; it is an extension of him.

To save on another man's memory card is to sleep in his bed and drink from his cup, a true deviation from rectitude.

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