Don’t tell anyone, but one of the things I love most about Mr. Finger Candy is that he is an unabashed Sony fanboy. This is a man I once watched break into a delighted happy dance in the middle of Best Buy because they had an unexpected shipment of impossible-to-find PS3s. Our 3D TV is a Sony. Our sound system is Sony. You can count the number of PlayStations and Vitas and PSPs (a whoozit?) we’ve owned in plurals. I respect brand loyalty, and my husband’s got that in spades.
The flip-side to that devotion, of course, is that those consoles – today a PS3 and a PS4 – have very nearly achieved “other woman” status; they monopolize a lot of time and brain cells (his AND mine; I love my video games, too, although let’s not kid ourselves – the consoles are his. I’m more of a PC gamer.)
Although these pink, framed-in PlayStation nails are clearly all about me, because I’m the one with the frosted pink controller. His is red. And white. And blue, and about five in basic black (GTA is murder on the old thumb toggles. And any innocent pedestrians standing around if I’m behind the virtual wheel.)