Fantasy or nightmare

There are many qualities I love and appreciate about my husband. One of them is that he doesn't play video games. If you can call that a quality, maybe it's more like a non-quality, an unquality... few things are bigger turn off/reason for despise/simply impossible to understand to me, than grown men who spend hours upon hours playing games that are typically either mindnumbingly violent or almost so real-sport-like that the only difference is that... well, you're not actually playing sports, you're sitting on your ass eating cheetos and drinking Dr. Pepper. 

With the violent games I guess it is preferable to get BBQ sauce all over your sweatpants and not shower for two days than to actually kill people, but this is all besides the point...
My point was going to be that it is once again the season for Fantasy Football and Dylan and his friends turn into teenage versions of bully-macho wannabe-coaches who trash talk each other over, and take unreasonable amounts of pride in, athletics acomplishments they had absolutely nothing to do with. At all. It's like a more social and disruptive version of  videogames, because it infects and ruins almost every aspect of their social life, social media interactions and casual conversations.
And mine too.