More fascinating than breakdancing were the little consoles emblazoned with the name “ATARI.” That summer, my friend Max introduced me to the world of video games. I had never touched a joystick until then. Max, sitting unusually close, shyly flipped on the TV and said, “This game is called ‘Pac-Man.’” Instantly, I was hooked—not just on the game but on Max himself. Pac-Man was so engaging; all I needed to do was guide this little yellow character through mazes, munching on dots while dodging the notorious ghosts named Blinky, Pinky, Inky, and Clyde.
Our July was split between two realms. One was filled with high scores, intense joystick battles, and the thrill of competition alongside Max, while the other was the vibrant outdoors of Baton Rouge, where my mom, my aunt, and Max’s family took mini-adventures through lush neighborhoods. Max’s home felt like an exhilarating escape. His younger siblings ran around carefree, and musical instruments cluttered their cozy space—there was even a piano in the living room, often occupied by a child practicing their keys. Max himself was the epitome of a carefree ’80s boy, sporting a shaggy hairstyle and denim shorts. I found him undeniably charming.
We played Pac-Man well into the sweltering days of August, and soon I was leveling up like a pro, feeling the rush of being a gamer. My excitement extended beyond the screen and into my budding feelings for Max. One day, as we embarked on another local adventure, he told my aunt that I had declared my love for him. Mortified, I protested loudly, “No, I didn’t! I don’t even like you!” Max turned beet red, staring out the window, and I felt crushed, convinced I had destroyed our friendship.
After that incident, I lost access to both Pac-Man and Max. We navigated our interactions with awkward politeness, neither of us brave enough to address the elephant in the room. As our time in Baton Rouge dwindled, we began to reconnect, once again side by side as we watched Pac-Man outsmart the ghosts. I knew I would be leaving Louisiana behind, along with the heat and Max, but I felt assured that Pac-Man would always be there for me.
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In summary, the summer of 1984 not only introduced me to the world of video games but also marked a pivotal moment in my young heart. The magic of Pac-Man and the innocence of first love intertwined, leaving a lasting impression that would shape my life in unexpected ways.