Admitting to being wrong

I never had a gaming pc. A computer on which I wouldn’t have to spend hours searching for the best hacks and tweaks to make my favorite games playable. I rarely played anything above medium level details. Most of the time all settings were set to the lowest available option, sometimes even lower than that.

A few months ago I decided to finally get a gaming pc. I remember being super excited while waiting for my phone to ring to go and pick it up from the courier. Long hours of gaming was awaiting me.

Except that’s not what happened. I never got to enjoy it as I imagined it. Not because of not having enough time, but because my days of gaming were pretty much over. The thought of gaming excited me, not the gaming itself.

“You do know you already have a laptop, right?”

“Are you still playing games? When will you even have the time?”

Whenever I felt someone judging my purchase I would go defensive about it. I would bring up all sorts of reasons for why the decision was a great one: “I always wanted one”, or “It wasn’t that expensive”, or “I can use it for work too”. Whatever excuse I could find.

And there were the others. The ones praising my new gaming PC. “It was about time to get one”, or “I’m thinking to buy one myself”.

With them, my attitude was completely different. The more they were praising and saying they should get one too, the more I would entice them otherwise. “Yeah, it’s nice, but if I could go back in time, I don’t think I would buy it again.”

It’s so much easier to admit you’re wrong when nobody wants you to. And vice-versa, few people like to listen to truths that reflect on their judgment. At best, we might admit it to ourselves, but never to others.

I knew buying a gaming PC was a mistake. I knew it the second I hit the submit button. But I was already telling people I was going to get one so, I couldn’t be wrong, could I?