The Prince and I played a game of Carcassonne on Saturday night. The Prince beat me… by a lot.
The Prince is an ugly loser- but believe me, he’s an even uglier winner.
I am making no comments in regard to the ugliness of my own behavior in such situations. You will shortly see why.
The game was over. The Prince tallied up the score. He was all “Okay, so I have about 50 more points than you do. HA.”
Me: “Sweet! I won!”
The Prince: “You didn’t win, I just told you I beat you. I just kicked your ass at this game that you begged me to play with you.”
Me: “Nope. I won.”
The Prince: “You didn’t win! I won!”
Me: “You’re cute. I’m really sorry about your loss, but honestly, I won.”
I continued to insist that I won and The Prince got more and more annoyed with me. He was all “Do you have any idea how angering it is to listen to you saying you won when you know you didn’t? You’re just trying to ruin my victory.”
Me: “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think you played pretty well. You gave it a good try. I won, though, and that’s just how it is.”
I, of course, thought this was HILARIOUS. Every few moments while sitting next to each other on the couch I would whisper: “I won.”
The end result?
Me screaming and trying to get away from The Prince once he figured out that the way to force me into admitting defeat was to tickle me and/or lick me on the face. I HATE SPIT. IT’S SO GROSS. He was trying to lick my face! Like a dog! Filthy!
Of course, every time I managed to sneak away from his death grip, I would squeak out an “I won!” and start the battle all over again.
BECAUSE I WON.