Former "game widow" shares her heartache and how she got her husband back

After their honeymoon, Graham Kays was glued to his computer and not to his wife.

To illustrate this for her husband, Wendy Kays photographed the now-familiar back of his head. Graham's retort: "Welcome to being a game widow," before returning to his game.

The phrase "game widow" — for someone whose partner is so absorbed by a game — has been a label in the worlds of fantasy sports, football, golf and other games for ages. But Wendy Kays found herself in the growing number of "widows" neglected by their partners due to video and computer games.

She estimates that there are "a million or more people who are abusing games and driving their family crazy." These issues transcend race, age and sexual orientation. There are also a growing number of online support groups.

"When I meet couples for family therapy, and ask if there are gaming issues in the household, typically the husband says, no no no, and the wife says yes," said Kim McDaniel, a Kirkland therapist who sees game issues in the majority of families and couples she counsels.

After wrestling with fights and compromises, the Kays are celebrating their seventh wedding anniversary and raising a baby. And Wendy is transforming her hardship into a self-help book titled "Game Widow." She'll have a book reading Saturday night at Third Place Books in Seattle.

"If I can suck it up, anybody can," said Wendy, 36. "I have a horrible temper and hold a grudge forever."

Searching for support

When Wendy and Graham started dating — they'd met at a Bellevue martial-arts class — the subject of games never came up.

"It never crossed my mind," said Graham, 39. "It's like if you watched football all weekend long, you won't mention it."

A week after the honeymoon, Graham, a lead designer for the video game "SOCOM: U.S. Navy SEALs," had to work extra hours. And despite Wendy's pleadings ("Relax with me — I'm cute"), he would retreat to his computer after work.

"For two to three months, I was consumed by games of one kind or another," said Graham.

That's when Wendy took the telltale back-of-the-head photo.

"I thought that was pretty rude," said Graham. "It was her passive-aggressive way of telling me I was gaming too much."

Graham's own passive-aggressive retaliation — welcoming her to the world of game widows — backfired. Armed with a name for her situation, Wendy started to look for others like her. Striking out in her search for online resources, she resorted to talking to other wives at company parties — and eventually, sneaking into game conventions.

"It was incredibly difficult to understand," said Wendy, whose only interaction with games hailed back to '70s and '80s-era "Pong" and "Ms. Pac-Man." "There was a history, a language, slang."

Most of all, the lonely bride was wondering how games could be more attractive than her.

A social interaction

Games were simply a part of Graham's life.

"From a gamer's perspective, the game is as real as everything else," said Graham. "So when you attack the game, it hurts on a personal level."

Jason Della Roca, executive director of the International Game Developers Association, explained, "Games bring joy. ... They relieve stress, help explore new worlds, make one laugh and have fun."

Massively multiplayer online games — MMOs like "EverQuest," the one Graham played — can be especially exhilarating. In MMOs, it's possible to be anybody — achieving the looks, popularity, wealth and status that may be unattainable in real life.

"They aren't just better looking," explains Wendy in her book. "They are 'better' people."

There's a social aspect as well, akin to poker night. Gamers can meet other gamers online, team up and compete in high-level clans called guilds.

"At least it's being engaged in an interactive manner," said Vashon Island lawyer Thomas H. Buscaglia, 60, who met his best friend, an Air Force man, online. Buscaglia said it's certainly better than a man who sits passively watching TV while his wife "brings him a bowl of Campbell's soup."

"That's much more dismal," Buscaglia said. "A lot of guys go to the bar and hang out — and I was bowling [in an online league]. There's certainly a lot worse trouble a guy could get into than playing a game."

"Time loss"

Yet hard-core players are prone to replace the real world with the virtual one. "They lose their real-world identity and identify instead with the game," said Shavaun Scott, a game therapist who has been practicing since 1991 in San Luis Obispo, Calif. "They get their self-esteem and their needs met with the game."

To meet these increasing needs, gamers invest more and more time into games. This is further aggravated by simple scheduling — many online games have set times for battles and rewards. This can lead to what Scott calls "time loss," when players get so immersed in the game, hours fly by. The therapist experienced time loss in her own life: She'd repeatedly ask her sons to eat dinner, but they couldn't leave their computers.

In order to reclaim her relationship with her children, Scott learned how to play games herself and decided to specialize in game therapy. She now leads workshops for other therapists, explaining how intoxicating these games can be, along the lines of drugs and alcohol.

"It's what his brain wants to do," said Scott about her older son, who continues to game. "That's the rush in his life."

An escape route

The tendency for non-gamers is to blame the game.

"To non-gamers that don't understand game culture, they by and large see games as a waste with no redeeming value," said Della Rocca of the International Game Developers Association. "Gamers could be reading books or mowing lawns."

But rather than seeing the game as "the boogieman," he suggests looking deeper.

"If you took the games away, chances are you'll find other outlets — gambling or watching movies or whatever — to get that escape or find those rewards or that social interaction," said Della Rocca. "These issues have existed for decades or centuries. It's not like only video games have husbands distracted."

Nick Yee, a leading game-behavior research scientist from the Palo Alto Research Center, agrees: "Behavioral dependencies existed long before computers were invented. ... These temporary solutions sometimes help, but other times they prevent the person from dealing with their real issues."

Strengthening bonds

For other families, video games are not a roadblock, but a way of relating to each other.

Buscaglia, the online bowler from Vashon, also jokes that his wife was more accustomed to the back of his head — but his playing actually brought him closer to his son.

"Games brought my father and I together at a time in my family's history when both of my parents were rarely available," said Thomas M. Buscaglia, 25. "I would go as far to say that were it not for video games, I might not have a meaningful relationship with my father today."

In addition, both father and son's gaming enabled them to work in the industry. The senior Buscaglia is a game attorney, and the junior is the lead designer for "Fallen Empire: Legions" at GarageGames in Eugene, Ore.

Others play together, on computers side-by-side.

"It was fun to play against the spouse, like, 'I got you,' " said Mountlake Terrace resident Cheryl Tuttle, 38.

"Sometimes you get into a fast-paced game and it's not like a typical conversation. We would be barking stuff at each other. It's quite fun," said Bill Tuttle, a software test engineer who admits his wife is a better player.

And younger gamer Emory Myers makes sure to stop when his girlfriend asks. He plays two to three hours on weekdays and sometimes eight to 12 hours on weekends.

"I'll be in middle of some kind of combat, and she wants a hug or want to talk, I usually [make my character] run to a town or a safe stop," said the 25-year-old Seattle programmer. "The other day, I had one hand on the keyboard and used the other one to give her a hug."

Striking a balance

Things were tough for the Kays until they compromised.

"She got so emotional," said Graham. "She yelled, she cried, she pleaded. ... It was a heart-wrenching process. I felt like life was falling apart. It was all out of control. I felt like I was losing my partner."

Wendy tried scheduling out times for each other. Graham would mark off nights for games, and she would mark off time for dates. This way, not only would Wendy no longer have to wait on him, but Graham became aware of how much time he spent gaming.

"I stopped sitting in front of the TV and waiting for him," said Wendy. "We both lost weight ... and it freed Graham up a lot." With the time he gained from decreasing his game time, he earned an MBA.

"Like everything in life, just play in moderation," said Graham.

Their son was born early last year.

"I was definitely not going to add a child to our household unless the gaming was handled responsibly," said Wendy, whose family now lives in Kirkland. "There was no way I'd subject a child of mine to single parenting if there was a way around it. And by single parenting, I mean only one parent paying attention in an intact household, or the very real chance that the game abuse would end the marriage eventually. It's too scary to contemplate, even now."

She hopes her book will be a primer for couples for prevention.

"I never want to go back there," said Wendy. "If I can rescue one family, then the investment for self publishing would be worth it."

Marian Liu: 206-464-3825 or mliu@seattletimes.com