The moment I laid eyes on the girl at the Street Fighter II cabinet, I knew I had to have her.
“I’m Tommy,” I said as I sidled up to her at the machine and slid a couple tokens into the slot. “Tommy Topscore.”
She never gave me a name or looked away from the screen. She just stood there and waited as I chose my character. “Shh. Don’t talk. Play.”
She knew just which buttons to press and in all the right combinations. I tried desperately to hold my own against the tide of leetness she unleashed against me, but round after round, fight after fight, coin after coin, I found myself completely pwned. She was a force of digital nature and I was just her latest victim. It was only with my last two tokens that I was able to finally defeat her in a bout of pulse-pounding, breath-taking intensity that I hadn’t felt since the day I completed Zelda for the first time.
It was then that she turned to me, grabbed me by the collar, and pulled me in for a kiss that had me tilting. My head went kill screen. I could feel my heart meter filling up with every second our lips touched. I felt like I’d jumped to the top of the flagpole and was sliding down as fireworks erupted all around me.
When it was over, she looked up at me with a smile and asked, “Continue?” I told her I had an Atari 2600 back at my place. She laughed. “Sounds nice. I’ve been wanting a little more Adventure in my life.” Then she grabbed my hand and led me out of the arcade.
The next morning, she was gone. She left no name, no phone number, just a few tokens on the nightstand. I was just a game to her, I guess. I never saw her again after that night, but I’ll never forget her. Especially with this scorching case of Yars’ Revenge.
Wear this shirt: to a Singles Night at a local arcade.
Don’t wear this shirt: while playing video games at home. Get out of the house and meet someone, dude. Seriously.
This shirt tells the world: “I don’t normally like to play games but, for you, I’ll make an exception.”
We call this color: Don’t Hate The Black Shirt, Hate The Game
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