I have never thought of myself as a competitor. When I was a kid, sports were never in the mix of my life. Sure, I would play a mean game of four square and anything else that I deemed safe. The monkey bars were a surefire way of breaking a bone and forget about double dutch (rope burn on the face is no way to have fun). Flag football and dodge ball had a way of getting out of hand (there are rules people!) and I started to stay away from those as I moved up the elementary hierarchy.
The competitive spirit never infused me. I could never understand why people would get so hyped up to win. It's just a game. It's just a game. It's just a game.
With academics, there wasn't much competition either: who wants to be known as a nerd? I certainly didn't. I craved to be the girl in the perfectly pegged Guess jeans, super white Keds, a Swatch perched on her wrist and the Esprit tote bag hanging on her shoulder adding to her scoliosis woes. What I craved and what I was in junior high were two different things. As much as I didn't want to be the nerd, I was. You can't help being anything other than yourself. The more you try to hide it, the more the awkwardness of your unnatural state shines through.
Switching high schools helped me embrace the nerdy part of my life, but I still never strived to be the one with the highest grades (who wants to give a speech in front of so many people?!?). The lack of drive, or competitive spirit, got me labeled as "lazy" by one of my teachers. I just didn't care that much. Am I getting A's? Yes. Can I get into a good college? Yes. Okay, so my goals were met, no biggie. If the top score was on my paperwork, great. Too much excitement would mean that I had tried and that I really wanted it (nerd alert!).
Marriage has undoubtedly been the largest factor in nurturing my competitive spirit. I married someone who is infinitely smarter than me; he is never wrong and his point always prevails. It's frustrating to be with someone who always tops you in just about every segment of life. At first, I just accepted it and figured I would just learn from this man. Then, I decided to search for a sign of something; I sat back and studied the man and realized he gets really upset when he's losing a game. It's a small thing, but it is victory.
Our house is full of games: cards, Trivial Pursuit, Scrabble, and several video games. What brings out the worst in us, though, is the Touchmaster game for the Nintendo DS. We each play in private trying to best the other's top scores. Simple mindless games, but still pretty addicting. The competition has been heated since we were given the game, which is why my accidental deletion of the scores looks very suspect in John's eyes. I swear to all that it was an unintentional incident that cannot be explained. Unintentional, but very much appreciated.
With a blank slate, I could actually enjoy the games without having to worry about John's top scores. That's why I abandoned the Brain Age games; I couldn't bear being the younger one in the marriage but having the oldest brain. With a blank slate on the Touchmaster, I can scream "In your face," laugh in an evil tone, and leave the DS lying around showing off a great seemingly unbeatable score.
Ah the victory! It is so sweet.
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