My wife isn’t a gamer.
The joy one experiences shooting nerds in their digital faces is as lost on her, as the appeal of a Nordstrom’s shoe sale is lost on me.
That’s not to say we haven’t learned things from one another as a result of our divergent hobbies.
She has learned that “Grinding” isn’t just done on the dance floor (though in all honesty, it probably shouldn’t be done there either, let’s class it up people). As she noted, “It’s when the game isn’t fun for you–but at any moment could become fun once you level.” I’ll ask her later why she hung her head and sighed so loudly after telling me that.
I’ve learned the difference between a “pump” and a “wedge.” I’ve also come to find out that I should cry a little bit anytime she pairs the words “Quality” and “Boot.”
I don’t know that it’s good or bad to have all the same hobbies as your spouse. Every couple will work that bit out for themselves–I can confidently say that hobbies don’t define the quality of relationship. As Jack discovered the grass is certainly not greener on the other side–as apparently, the other side is full of cat loving Sims players.