Bark Is Worse Than Its Byte

(My boyfriend is a video game geek. He especially loves shooting games, which I absolutely suck at. After much begging he convinces me to play a game with him; he puts in Resident Evil 5.)

Boyfriend: “Okay, I’ll give you the automatic shotgun and load it with all of my ammunition.”

Me: “Huh?”

Boyfriend: “You’re good for over 800 shots. You’ll be fine.”

(He randomly picks a level.)

Me: “I’m ready!”

Boyfriend: *about a minute into the level* “No! No no no no no! We have to stop
immediately. I’ll pick a different level!”

Me: *irritated* I’m not incompetent, hun. We’ve already started. Can’t we just finish?”

Boyfriend: “Fine. Whatever.”

(Note: I’m deathly terrified of dogs. All of a sudden, a giant zombie dog runs at me with a gaping hole for a mouth. I panic and start blindly shooting, round after round, screaming the whole time. My gun clicks empty and my boyfriend takes two steps and shoots the zombie dog in the head with one shot. He holds his hand out and I silently gave him the controller. We don’t play shooting games together anymore.)