Love You, Love You Not

Love You, Love You Not

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

ManTrap™




Like Chess, or Othello, ManTrap™ is a game that takes moments to learn, but a lifetime to master. This is especially true when the game is played by strategians, like Husband, or derby gals, like me.

GAME PLAY

The goal of ManTrap™ is to pin your man to the bed, by any means necessary.

A game of ManTrap™ sneaks up on you. What seems like a sweet hug between husband and wife can turn into a shoving fight to the mattresses. Hone your reflexes, and in the immortal words of Mad Eye Moody (or rather, Barty Crouch, Jr.): CONSTANT VIGILANCE. 

APPAREL/EQUIPMENT

Hardwood floors and sock feet work to your advantage. Catch your man wearing socks on a hardwood floor, and half the work is done for you. Just be sure to leave your own socks behind; the disadvantage works both ways.

COUNTER-MEASURES

ManTrap™ truly evolves over time. As you level up your own skill set, your opponent does the same. You develop new strategies, new measures to ensure your success. Your opponent learns to counter them. And the Chess match begins.

Leverage

I bend my knees, get low, lean into my man, and brace a foot on the ground. As I do, I visualize myself as a large boulder, an immovable force of nature. 

Counter-Measure: Husband counters; he pushes my arms up above his shoulders. Pinning my arms at this height keeps me from lowering my center of mass. Tricksy.

Counter-Counter-Measure: To resist, I keep my arms low and minimize his ability to subvert them. I think about the gap between my side and my arms; then close it.

Bed ninja rolls

Once Husband has been pushed into the bedroom, he senses defeat is imminent. His last-ditch effort, his Hail Mary pass, is the Ninja Roll. He disengages from my loving embrace, races into the room, and jumps on the bed, hoping I will give chase. Once he has me on the side of the bed, ready to follow him, he Rolls, his feet tucked close to his body and his knees creating an L with his legs. Ninja Husband rolls from one side to the other and hops off the opposite end of the bed. (Nine points on the dismount from the Canadian judge, only 6 from the Russian judge.) The confusion of the direction change and the heat of the chase buy him a few extra seconds to make a run for the door.

Counter-measure: Fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice…well, you know. Now, when Husband breaks away and makes a run for the bed, I do not give chase. Instead, I center myself between the door and the bed. Like a fucking athlete, I widen my stance, bend my knees, keep my weight on my toes, shifting lightly from one foot to the other. I am a tiger, ready to pounce at the slightest movement. My prey is trapped. Until…

Level UP: +1 to Magic Socks spell

Husband was trapped on the bed, rolling back and forth on his back. Slowly, without so much as a change in expression or break in eye contact, he reached down and pulled first one sock, then the other, off his feet. With a faint glint of mischief in his eyes, he began balling up the socks and passing them from one hand to the other. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Charging up a spell.”

My attention and readiness did not waver. When he rolled off one side of the bed and ran toward me, I was ready. But then. Then, Husband hurled the socks at my face and yelled, “Magic Socks!”

Even so, my jungle cat instincts did not let him pass. As he rushed forward, I stepped into him and pinned him to my armoire. “Oh noooooo!” he cried, dismayed at his surprising defeat.

With my Husband still pinned, I laughed. 

     And laughed. 

          And laughed. I doubled over with the laughter.

Seeing his chance, Husband spun and danced away, crying “Lingering Effect!”

Even in the face of defeat, it didn’t matter. I was still laughing.