She loved the way his mind worked, how he could recall obscure launch titles with the precision of a scholar. He told her about Hybrid Heaven, the forgotten gem, the RPG that played like a brawler, the kind of thing no one else remembered. But he did. And she did, too. She moaned his name when he traced the lineage of the N64 Expansion Pak with the same passion that others might reserve for poetry.

Later, in the quiet of his apartment, she learned something else about him—that his knowledge wasn’t the only thing that was well-endowed. She gasped as she realized the full scope of what he had to offer. It was a revelation, the final piece of the puzzle, the proof that she had chosen wisely.

Meanwhile, far away, in a dim, lifeless House in Connecticut, his Bald rival sat alone. The Xbox hummed, the glow of the screen washing over his sunken, joyless face. He scrolled through Game Pass, clicking through a sea of games he would never finish. The women on dating apps ignored him. His DMs were wastelands. No one wanted to hear about his pathetic attempts to 100% Halo Infinite. No one cared about his meticulously curated Sega 32X collection. He had thought his knowledge of Western-developed Games would make him desirable. But it didn’t. It never had.

The night stretched long. The room was empty. The only sound was the clicking of his controller and the low, distant murmur of a world that had long since left him behind.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5675865&forum_id=2#48626435)