On a recent afternoon, Emily Watkins met a friend at the park for a catch-up. After 45 minutes of talk – her new tabi shoes, his new boyfriend – he pulled out a pair of ping-pong paddles and pointed at a nearby table. “Fancy a quick game?” She says they are no longer speaking. “I’m joking, but only sort of.”
For Watkins, games of any sort ought to be illegal once everyone present is over the age of 12. She makes grudging exceptions for professional athletes, because they are earning a living and there is little chance of being asked to join the Wimbledon final. But anything less formal carries too high a risk of being corralled.
No social situation is improved by a game
In her view, no social situation is made better by adding a game. With people she knows and loves, it feels like cruel and unusual punishment to have organic conversation cut short by something like Articulate! Structured activities for strangers are even worse: “because now not only am I playing a game, but doing so with a bunch of people I don’t know, and I want to die.”
She lists the usual suspects: going round the office and introducing yourself with two truths and a lie; hens writing down their favourite thing about the bride so she can guess who wrote what. She adds: “Let’s stick pins in our eyes!”
Pub quizzes are the worst
Watkins is not advocating anything to replace games. She wants space to be together, clutching coffee or a glass of wine depending on the time of day. Pub quizzes are not an exception; they are “actually the most dire of all, the Uncanny Valley of organised fun.” The cues – friends, booze – are there for a lovely time, then suddenly it’s the music round and someone takes it very seriously.
She acknowledges a whole cohort feels just as strongly in the opposite direction. She has encountered them in the wild, “frothing at the mouth as they chastise you for putting your card on the left instead of the right or whatever – and frankly, they frighten me.” She envies their strength of feeling, even if it looks energising.
Real fun starts when games stop
Is she pathologically uncompetitive? Has her lack of interest in games birthed a unique ineptitude at almost every single one? “Yes and yes!” she writes. Years on the sidelines have made one thing clear: the real fun begins as soon as the games stop.
Her message to the friend at the park: “put the paddles down and get me a glass of pinot, please.”
Emily Watkins is a freelance writer based in London.
