I have a confession: I’m addicted to board games. I’m not talking about Candyland or Monopoly, though I do relish a raucous game of Pictionary. I get my fix from games that are a little more complex and a little more embarrassing—a category sometimes referred to as “Eurogames” or “German-style board games.” These involve less strategy than chess but more strategy than Sorry! and are often based on strangely specific historical periods.

Settlers of Catan is probably the most well-known German-style board game, but in my tentative exploration of the board-game scene on campus and off, it is definitely not alone. I spent a little time denying this foray into a new level of nerd, but after I started frequenting a virtual version of one game online, facing off against terrifying, possibly German strangers, the matter became undeniable.

Following this stage of denial, I entered a brief stage of shame, during which any mention of games would make me sheepish and prone to blushing. My penning of this column marks my exit from the shame stage. I am announcing my fixation on the most public forum I have.

In retrospect, it is unsurprising that I developed this acute interest in strategy board games. It indulges my fondness for solving puzzles while giving me an outlet for a competitive attitude that I usually hide, while also allowing me to feel self-congratulatory about being somewhat social instead of squandering all my free time on the Internet.

These games often use numerous, highly stylized wooden pieces that I like to admire on an aesthetic level and, of course, arrange into neat stacks before beginning game play. Predictably, my favorite subcategory of games is cooperative, the sort of game where all players work together toward a common goal (Think “Jumanji,” though the thought that many readers may be too young to remember the film disturbs me more than I would like to admit).

I like games that are relatively simple and fast, since I tend to get bogged down with indecision and strife otherwise. I like games with cute graphics and boards that are well organized. I now realize that I am so far gone that I am able to detail my specific game preferences and relate them to my personality.

My quest for adulthood has hit an unexpected obstacle. I spend more time now than I did as a child giggling over board games, and if my all-too-frequent online researching of games doesn’t severely undermine my credibility as an adult, I would be very surprised.

As it turns out, though, I am too willing to sacrifice my credibility based on maturity for an afternoon of rolling dice or drawing cards. Before I graduated for the first time and entered this stage of adulthood-light, I had a penchant for obsessive behavior. This personality flaw was made apparent through high school with my teenage fanaticism and through college with my numerous ill-advised decisions to stay up all night pursuing some minutia instead of doing the reasonable thing and finding sleep. Perhaps it is asking too much for this characteristic to leave me when I am attempting to put on a show that I am a real adult. The obsession needs an outlet, and when I declared celebrities, books, and films too juvenile, my resulting affinity for board games, of all hobbies, is a study in irony.

Upon further contemplation, though, I am more or less at peace with my newest hobby. I am in no hurry to become a bona-fide adult. I’ve always been something of an old woman trapped in a young body, so perhaps this is tipping the balance back a little. My coterm year has given me the gift of one more year before I enter the abyss, and I certainly plan on enjoying it.

And really, is there a clear definition of adulthood? Maturity of hobbies as constructed by society seems an unimportant factor to take into the bigger picture.

I’ll concede the possibility that the true conclusion I should take from all this is that I am thinking too much.

Perhaps it’s time for a little distraction, time to go inside and set up a board game.

Want to trade wood for sheep? Email Jade at [email protected].