Two commenters, Corvus and Liz, expressed curiosity about my statement that I loathe and detest games in this post.
For me, this issue is a tantalizing look at the question of nature vs. nurture. I believe it is possible that I was genetically programmed to hate games.
It seems that my mother also loathes and detests games. But I did not know of her hatred when I was a child. I learned of it only as an adult. Because she saw mothering (which she also wasn’t crazy about) as Job One, she forced herself to play games with me and my two sisters.
Now, it’s possible my loathing of games was learned behavior if my mother manifested any of her loathing while playing games with us. But I don’t think she did. I was never consciously aware she hated games while she was playing them with us.
If you ask me why I hate games, I am likely to say, “I just do,” but if pressed, I would say they are boring and I have many better uses for my time.
I will say, however, that as a child I enjoyed “games” that were more of the storytelling ilk – unorganized games of the imagination, such as “House,” “Horses,” “Brother and Sister,” and playing with dolls and making up stories about them.