A Bit Too Blasé

This morning, I woke up to find that my boyfriend had not come to bed at all and instead played on his PlayStation 3 all night, with complete indifference to the fact that he had to teach English to a pack of uninterested children all day today. This in itself is not an unusual occurrence. He often gets "lost" in his game-play and forgets to come to bed, so often that I joke he loves his PlayStation more than me (which I'm pretty sure is true sometimes). So it wasn't the shock of him playing PlayStation at 6 in the morning which threw me. It was what he said to me, as I rolled my eyes knowing he would be grumpy and agitated from a lack of sleep for the rest of the week.

"I was mugged on the way home last night." As simple as that. Not even a warning of "Now don't worry, but...". He went on to recount the experience, and informed me that as he was walking along the street, two frightening figures bulldozed him into an alleyway and told him to give them his money. Instead of handing it over, he chuckled, said no and tried to explain that he didn't have any cash on him. It was only when the larger of the two, seized his neck that he decided to offer them the two pound coins he had in his wallet. Oddly, they happily accepted this measly settlement and let him go on his way. Even more strangely, this all took place right next to a cash machine. Now either these two muggers were incredibly stupid, or, my boyfriend being so calm, consequently calmed them down and diffused the situation. I'm convinced that if it had been me, I would have been hysterical with fear and would have ended up emptying my bank account for them, with them eventually killing me just to stop my frenzied tears!

As soon as he told me this story, I insisted that we call the police, but he sneered at the suggestion. I suppose it was only £2 but the way I see it, it could have been a lot worse. Perhaps the fact that he plays so many video games, many which revolve around an aim to kill people or steal from people has made him immune to the horrors of reality. Should I reluctantly thank his second love, or should I "accidentally" kick it ten times until it doesn't work anymore, so that he can rejoin the real world?

P.S. Anyone reading this who lives in Swansea, avoid The Kingsway late on Sunday nights. Unless you fancy paying £2 for the privilege of a quick bit of strangulation. Each to their own.