“There was too much ‘doting girlfriend’ and not enough ‘North Korea’.”

MY friend and I are ‘Playstation widows’ and have nobody to blame but ourselves.

We should never have introduced our boyfriends without proper checks and monitors. We definitely shouldn’t have let them talk freely – uncensored.

There was too much ‘doting girlfriend’ and not enough ‘North Korea’.

And because of our irresponsibility they’ve thrown their women to the wayside and now spend hour after hour, in their respective living rooms, racing against each other on a Formula One game.

Formula One is the bane of my life at the best of times.

But since The Fiance and his new BFF discovered they both own the same game, he has been bathed in a strange, bluey-orange light – and I’m starting to forget what he looks like without a joypad in his hands and a look of intense concentration on his face.

There are actual self-help websites dedicated to women like us, who have lost our loved ones to a console.

“Do men ever grow up?” came a text, from the aforementioned friend, during a marathon F1 sesh.

I thought for about three seconds before replying: “No. I think they just get taller and hairier.”

She replied straight away: “Mine says can you tell yours that his front wing has fallen off.”

I started to ask if she’d rung 999 when she followed it with: “We’re ‘team mechanics’ now, which means we have to pass messages between them.”

The Fiance says this new role extends to bringing him regular snacks and cups of tea.

“Honestly,” I grumbled. “I’m not your mum. I have a good book and glass of wine I’m trying to work my way through.”

He grumbled back: “Well I’m currently in front of Vettel and I want to keep it that way. I bet Lewis Hamilton doesn’t get this sort of treatment.”

The friend and I now plan to watch every baking programme we can find and force our men to watch them with us.

Come ‘Bake-off season’ they won’t know what’s hit them.

I’m ending this column with the sad realisation that I’ve been turned into a 1950s housewife.

This war isn’t over – you mark my words.

Article first published in The Westmorland Gazette on February 20, 2014


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