Corelyn Games

In psychology, I learned about “breach experiments,” which are studies where social norms are quietly broken, and the reaction measured. Mischievous psychologists have often been found asking to take a picture with a stranger in the grocery store, or doing normal activity at half speed. These tests must be carefully chosen, as actions with ambiguous meaning such as winking or locking eye contact will simply be subjectively interpreted, which is no good. A good breach experiment must be perfectly legal, nonthreatening, and impossible to explain.

I find these hilarious, and I somehow made up a bunch of them to play on my wife, who continues to endure my shenanigans with real sportmanship. I suggest you try some, and I’ve listed them below.

There are basic rules that they all play by: they happen very quickly, they only permit lying if the truth will immediately become apparent, and they only confuse or mildly annoy; actually scaring or offending someone is for jerks.

None of these are being made up. Seriously. Ask her.

1. “Poke.” Whenever Corelyn is telling me something only sort of important that she nonetheless wants me to commit to memory, this game may be played. The objective is simple: poke her in the nose as many times as possible, using only one hand, and retracting the arm all the way between each attempt. Early on, her initial confusion garnered me one or two free hits, but now she swats at my hand without even blinking, so it’s pretty tough. 5 successful pokes is a good score.

2. “Liar.” To win, I must lie about something unimportant and transparently self-evident, and I must do it well enough to make her hesitate. For instance, a solid victory might involve deliberately walking to the wrong car in the parking lot, then acting confused when she does not come along. A loss happens when Corelyn rolls her eyes and simply waits for me to stop referring to my ketchup bottle as “peanut butter,” and that is normally what happens. But those precious few times that she furrows her brow and doubts herself as I repeatedly refer to a pigeon as a “rainbow” are priceless.

3. “Communication Breakdown.” One of my favorites, it involves using inappropriate answers to simple questions. Like “Liar,” victory requires a moment of self-doubt, where Corelyn will hopefully wonder if she’s somehow asking a different question than she’s thinking. For example, if Corelyn asks, “What movie would you like to see tonight,” a good response would be, “I doubt it.” The right answer is only half the battle, it needs to feel out of context too, so I’ll say, “Mmm, I doubt it,” exactly as if she has just asked me if the Jets will go to the Super Bowl. You have to remember that the human mind is a powerful interpreter, and it will be trying to produce theories on what I could possibly mean. Only if my answer is completely incongruous to the conversation’s context will this work. When I do win, the conversation simply cannot proceed, and she has to abandon the whole dialogue like a sinking ship and try to start from scratch. Other examples include: “Should we go out tonight?,” “You’re welcome.” And “What time is it?,” “I thought so, too.”

4. “Favorite Song.” Easy one, normally a solid victory, all I need is a good set-up. When the right song plays on the radio, I insist that it’s one of my favorites of all time, and see how long she believes me. The hard part is getting the right tune. It can’t be anything from your iPod for obvious reasons, but it also can’t be a song she knows we’ve discussed before. Something like Britney Spears’ new single “Womanizer,” or Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” can’t do the job, because Corelyn knows she’s told me how much she hates both, and any attempt on my part to endorse them is too transparent. I need a song she has always assumed everyone dislikes, so she never troubled to verify it with me; music by Celine Dion is good. How this deception is carried out depends on the context. If the song comes on and she doesn’t say anything, simply turning it up a little is the most convincing thing. If she reacts negatively before I have a chance to jump in, feigning mild embarassment or defensiveness goes a long way. Once she’s kind of beginning to believe me, I allow each of my following arguments to get more and more ridiculous. By the time I say, “I used to listen to this song and just…cry my eyes out while eating ice cream,” she’s probably smacked me upside my head, laughed, and called me a “jerk.” That is a solid win.

5. “It’s Alive!” I have only won this game once. It requires the perfect set-up, and then a flawless, unblinking fib. Here’s how it goes: Cor and I are at a sit-down restaurant, sitting across from each other. Trying to find a resting spot, her foot accidentally places itself on mine, and she quickly asks, “Is that you?” Here’s the hardest part: I have to say “no” in a manner casual enough to be convincing; even the slightest overacting will be detected. If she believes me, she now has no clue what on earth this thing under the table is, and she will instinctively begin pressing down harder, trying to identify the anomaly. It will take about five seconds for her to realize that I’m lying, so somewhere in that window of uncertainty, during which her mind has classified my shoe as “unknown object,” I need to kick my foot up in the air and shout “It’s alllliivvvee!” The one time I pulled this off, she yelped at the top of her lungs in a crowded restaurant. It was awesome.

6. “Listening.” As Corelyn tells a story, I react the wrong way. People are sophisticated social organisms, and whenever we’re talking to someone, we’re rigorously monitoring their face and body to see how our performance is going. Therefore, it is easy to change one little thing about your face at the wrong moment and completely ruin someone’s train of thought. Big reactions are stupid, the goal is to alter the tiniest possible thing to derail the story. Remember, again, that Corelyn’s mind, like anyone’s, is trying to justify my behavior at all times, so I need to pick something that is simply impossible to explain. My favorite is inappropriate surprise. As Corelyn tells me how to skin a potato, I will quietly widen my eyes and furrow my brow slightly, maybe even cock my head a little. This will cause a train wreck in her brain. The best thing about this game is that no matter who you play it with, they will drop absolutely everything and attempt to comb over the conversation with you until they understand your reaction. People take this stuff seriously.

7. “Noise.” Probably one of the hardest, because keeping a straight face is nearly impossible. You have to make some kind of noise, either in the back of your throat or with a concealed hand, and see how long you can pretend to be confused by it as well. The best noises are ones that Corelyn will only begin to notice after about twenty seconds, because she’s more likely to believe I’m not making them. A good sound needs to feel inhuman, un-patterned, and too mundane to be created for comedy. Most times, I crack a smile and she catches me, but if I actually get her up and searching the apartment for its origin, it’s fun to pick some weird corner of the kitchen and swear that it’s “coming from over there.” Any time a strange noise occurs, people will normally scan your face rigorously for about three seconds to determine if you’re making it. If you can survive that without breaking, you are darned good. I’ve only made it twice.

There. I have imparted my delicious games to you. Go out and try them on unsuspecting prey! I’m sure the people you do them to will be much easier than Corelyn, because she’s used to this stuff by now.

Poor woman. What has she gotten herself into?