As my loyal reader will know, I am shamelessly nosey. I like to call it curiosity. When I gifted my future Son in Law a game based around dilemmas I did so in the greedy hope that he would open the game in my presence and rush to involve his nearest and dearest in play.

In hindsight, although my plan worked like a dream, before gifting I wish I had researched the dilemma options more closely. I feel that my gamesmanship may have outed me as a fickle and shallow human and revealed my future Son in Law’s family to be selfless, charitable individuals.

As a university undergraduate I once took a gentleman of interest home to meet my parents. During that holiday we played a board game called ‘Scruples’. Competitors had to predict how others would respond in certain scenarios and it was written into the rules that you could lie to double-bluff the opposition. Fast forward some months later to a broken engagement (involving some double crossing by the aforementioned chap), and my mother confessed that she had seen this coming on account of the sleepless night she had spent after we had played the game. She recalled that my then boyfriend had professed that he would drive away from a ‘hit and run’ accident to resist prosecution; I had assumed he was bluffing, but my mother had clearly used the opportunity to look deep into his soul and to note his lack of integrity. I wish she had told me: I probably would not have listened.

Perhaps I should have remembered this story when I purchased the dilemma game for my future Son in Law – not because I had any concern about his integrity, but because in answering some, ‘would you rather’ dilemma paired questions, in comparison to other contestants, I was found to be far from selfless. The others all seemed to answer for the benefit of the greater good. I do not seem to have these genes.

Looking back, I realise that I should have noted the hushed silence that followed some of my responses during the game.

I give you an example:

Would you rather eat the same meal every day for the rest of your life, or spit in the face of anyone you meet?
Naturally I answer that I would quite happily spit for I have a low boredom threshold.

Another:

Would you rather slap the face of anyone using incorrect grammar in your presence, or eat cottage cheese for breakfast every morning?
This was a no-brainer; I am an English teacher and I hate cottage cheese.

In comparison, my daughter’s future Father-in-Law (who will now need to be beatified), handled his first dilemma in a much more charitable manner:

Would you rather drink the water from a toilet brush holder or tell every new person you meet that they have severe halitosis?
He opted for the ‘toilet water’ on account of not wanting to make other people miserable.

Favourite Daughter (FD) is gifted an ‘easier’ dilemma:
Would you rather sweat olive oil, or not brush your teeth for a year?

Quite frankly I was surprised at her hesitancy on this one and she took a long time to deliberate. She was seriously considering not brushing her teeth for a year because she likes to frequent the gym and believes herself to be a sweaty person. She is not asking for any assistance while she weighs up the dilemma, but being her mother, I wade in anyway. I argue that sweating subsides as you get older and any secretions of olive oil could be massaged into the skin to ensure a youthful glow. She asks me why – if this is the case – I spent so many years complaining about my menopausal hot flushes. I deflect this line of reproach by arguing that it is ridiculously hard to get a dentist these days and I feel I have support from my fellow competitors with this argument and even some admiration for my display of common sense. I should have kept quiet and allowed FD ‘take up’ time, but no, I reveal my shallow materialistic nature to the group by pointing out that FD could make a killing by bottling and selling any olive oil secretions on account of its current high market value. ‘I thought you said I was not a sweaty person, ‘ FD responds quietly.

If there is a point to this blog (we can but pray) it is to publicly admit my mea culpa (to my one reader) and to offer a warning to anyone in the market for the purchase of a ‘get to know you’ game. As penance I am now working on a new board game called ‘It’s Not All About Me’ which invites contestants to predict what vacuous, self-serving response I might give in any late life scenario in order to race their counters to the finish line and shake me off. In their race around the board, contestants could be delayed by very random ‘Mothership Cards’ such as, ‘Waste hours indulging Mama J over coffee’ or ‘Take Mama J back to the clothes shop to return those age-inappropriate clothes’, or the inevitable, ‘Waste time listening to Mama J’s latest marathon training story’.

I feel there is money to be made in the creation of my new board game and I am now on the look out for the appropriate (soft filter) photo of your’s truly to really light up the packaging. I will keep my entrepreneurial aspirations under wraps until I can invest any profit in an off-shore account for my future Son in Law’s family will no doubt suggest it is not, as I like to believe, ‘all about me’ and that I need to start donating to charity.