This is the year I get married, move in with a man, start a new job, join a new family and -- as I recently discovered -- compete with a videogame system for my significant other's attention.

While all the new challenges I face at times feel overwhelming, it's the PlayStation 2 that may make my impending marriage a little more difficult than I anticipated.

I hadn't planned on getting Jack the PS2 or any other system for Christmas, because I thought he wouldn't use it that much. I was going to pick up a leather jacket to replace his worn-out "Top Gun"-era bomber.

But then I started listening to his married friend, who pushed for the game system. He reminded me that no grown man wants to be seen buying a toy, so it's best to be given the toy.

Little did I know that this toy expert ended up with new underwear and T-shirts on Christmas Day, while Jack found a new and very annoying distraction.

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Unfortunately, a rather wise man told me after the fact that he would never buy a game system because he'd be addicted within an hour. It doesn't necessarily take that long.

Since I delighted Jack with the PS2 on Christmas Eve, it's been a 24-hour virtual killing spree. While I admit it's not often he gets to kill cops and prostitutes and walk away unscathed, I wonder how much of a good thing he can handle before he throws in the controller and notices the flesh and bone next to him.

I've been told I can't complain about him enjoying this new toy, because by giving it to him, I encouraged him to become a videogame zombie.

So it's my fault that when I arrive at his place and the PS2 is on that he always has to "kill this one person," "finish this last mission," or "drop off this hooker," before he can say hi or kiss me hello.

I grew up with two older brothers who started with Atari and moved through all the more advanced systems. I have spent many an hour watching people play videogames, and even enjoyed some games on my own.

The problem was, when I got my two minutes with the joystick I never measured up to my brothers' level of play. "What are you doing?!" "You can't go that way."

It wasn't that I was bad, it's that I didn't spend 10 hours a day to reach the expert status they achieved long ago.

After coming home to Jack one day and finding myself nagging that the pause button is there for a reason, I decided it was time to join 'im instead of beating 'im.

Once Jack took about 20 minutes to "get the game ready" for me, I tried my hand at stealing cars and pulverizing innocent pedestrians. I admit it was a little fun -- that is, until Jack shouted, "That's not how you do it."

Suddenly the new gaming expert in my life was taking the game a little too seriously, and that's when I decided I didn't need a coach and I didn't need to be second prize to a videogame -- I need another TV.

So when I move in in three months, the PlayStation will find its new home on a TV in a separate room without such a comfy couch. It may not ease Jack's addiction but at least he will actually have to travel a bit to get there.

In the meantime, I'm going to look for an outfit that would make Lara Croft proud. I'm sure that will get his attention.

Laura Lewis is an adventurous 20-something who knows how to make the most of being single. Her column appears every other Thursday.