GamerGate Refuses To Die

(My husband and I are out at a local bar we frequent, and I’m talking video games with the bartender, with whom I get along well. A popular video game series I love has just released a new installment. Another patron is clearly listening in but hasn’t tried to join the conversation.)

Bartender: “So, did you get [Game]? I know you were looking forward to it.”

Me: “I did! I tried it first from one of those rental kiosks, and I liked it enough that I turned around and bought it right after.”

Bartender: “Ah, cool. I saw it come out, and the reviews were kind of iffy, and I was worried, like, ‘Oh, no, that’s [My Name]’s game.’”

Me: “Yeah, I mean, I can see where a lot of the criticisms come from, and honestly, they’re probably valid, but I still really like it despite them.”

(We chat a bit more while the other guy at the bar looks more and more agitated until…)

Guy: “Look. All I’m going to say is that you’re wrong, and [Game] is objectively bad.”

Me: “Oh, uh, well, to each their own.”

(He sounds really heated, like he wants to argue, and I’m not interested in engaging with someone who’s automatically hostile, so I turn back to my husband and friend, but…)

Guy: “No, that’s a cop-out.”

Other Random Guy: “Dude, she likes it; you don’t. She ain’t trying to argue. It’s all good.”

Guy: “No, that’s a cop-out!”

(My husband and the bartender are starting to look visibly annoyed. I just want a quiet evening, so I try to defuse the situation.)

Me: *smiling* “Well, luckily, nobody is going to come to your house, tie you to a chair, and force you to play it.”

Guy: *angrily* “Get over yourself!”

Husband: “Hey, man, lower your voice. Relax.”

Guy: “You relax!” *jabbing a finger at me* “That’s a cop-out, and you’re letting her get away with it!”

Bartender: *calmly, smiling* “I’m going to comp your drink there, buddy. You’re closed out.” 

Guy: “I don’t want–”

Bartender: *still smiling calmly* “You’re closed out. You can go. You should go.”

(My friend is a pretty big guy, and this dude finally seemed to realize he wasn’t wanted and stormed out. I still can’t believe how angry he was over nothing, and he didn’t seem drunk or high. From then on, “It’s a cop-out” became a running gag there, and I got used to the bartender sighing ruefully and saying, “That’s SUCH a cop-out… I don’t know why I keep letting you get away with it,” from time to time when I ordered something.)