A cowboy asked the question that exposes everything wrong with modern masculinity

The Dry Creek Wrangler asked a question that cut through me like a blade: "Is she gonna help him play Xbox?"

Picture it: A grown man asking his woman to help him with his toys. Not help him build a business. Not help him raise strong children. Not help him serve in the church. Help him play Xbox.

When did we start asking women to enable our escapism instead of expecting them to witness our excellence?

I know because I was that man.

The Army Brat Who Never Grew Up

Late 80s through mid-90s. Army brat bouncing from base to base while my dad served overseas. My mom worked full-time, holding down the home front, and I was constantly hassling her for the latest video game or system. Not working for it beyond basic chores—just demanding it like the entitled little boy I was.

I'd lock myself in my room as a teenager, determined to beat whatever virtual world had captured my attention. Mario. Zelda. Street Fighter. Mortal Kombat. I loved them all more than I loved reality.

While my mom was juggling real responsibilities and my dad was serving his country, I was conquering digital kingdoms that didn't exist and building nothing that would last.

Then I met my wife.

The Choice That Changes Everything

Two paths stretched before me: Keep my little boy attitude and continue beating virtual adversity, or get a real job, work hard, and save money so my wife and I could build an actual life together.

My parents were both hard workers. My wife's parents were both hard workers. And I was a bum about to get baptized by the brutal fire of hard labor.

The men I worked with were gruff and vulgar, but they were builders. Real men who moved real weight and solved real problems. And they made my life a living hell.

They mocked my soft hands. My weak back. My inability to keep up. They saw what I was—a boy playing at being a man—and they had no patience for it.

I wanted to run back to my room, back to my games, back to virtual victories that cost nothing and built nothing.

But love compelled me.

Love for a woman who deserved a man, not a boy. Love for a future family that would need a father, not a playmate. Love for a God who called me to dominion, not escapism.

So I laced up my boots and went back.

The Real Game Begins

Every day, those same men who made my life hell became my teachers. Slowly, painfully, they forged me into something resembling a man. They taught me that respect isn't given—it's earned. That strength isn't virtual—it's built through real resistance.

And gradually, those same men who had mocked me became friends and helpers off the job. I earned their respect, and let me tell you something: that was better than any video game achievement I'd ever unlocked.

Because it was real.

Breaking the Cycle

When our kids were born, my wife and I made a decision: We would not traumatize them by letting them grow up late. We got them working young. My boys started working on a potato and organic farm with me when they were 7 and 8.

Both have never been compelled or sucked into game culture. They've discovered something remarkable: The adversity of real life is game enough.

They don't need virtual dragons when they can face actual challenges. They don't need digital achievements when they can build real skills. They don't need online communities when they can earn the respect of real men doing real work.

The Four Lies Gaming Tells Men

Lie #1: "You deserve to relax"

Truth: You deserve to grow. Every hour spent in virtual worlds is an hour not spent building your actual kingdom.

Lie #2: "It's just a hobby"

Truth: It's a digital addiction designed to keep you comfortable, weak, and distracted from your real calling.

Lie #3: "You can balance it"

Truth: You cannot serve two masters. You'll either build virtual kingdoms or real ones.

Lie #4: "Everyone needs an escape"

Truth: Real men don't escape reality—they create it.

The Brutal Questions

When the power goes out, what have you built?

When the servers shut down, what remains?

When your woman looks at you, does she see a man conquering real adversity or a boy escaping from it?

"But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." (1 Timothy 5:8)

Your woman shouldn't have to help you escape reality. She should be able to count on you to create it.

The Real Achievement

Those gruff, vulgar men who made my life hell taught me something no video game ever could: Respect earned through real adversity is worth more than all the virtual victories in the world.

They didn't mock me because they were cruel. They mocked me because they could see what I couldn't—that I was wasting my strength on shadows instead of building something real.

Delete the games. Sell the console. Tell your woman she doesn't need to help you play Xbox because you're too busy building a kingdom.

Get your hands dirty. Face real adversity. Earn real respect.

Because at the end of your life, no one will remember your high score. But they'll remember what you built. Who you raised. How you led.

"Awake thou that speepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light." (Ephesians 5:14)

Stop playing games. Start building kingdoms.

Your woman is watching. Your children are watching. Your God is watching.

What are they seeing?

Subscribe to join 14k+ men and women who've quit playing games with their relationship with God and started building kingdoms.

For the man ready to face real adversity: The work is hard, but the respect is real. Don't quit.

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