My bloodthirsty side

"Sweetheart, you're making a mistake. Don't kill me," Dreamy said as he gazed sincerely into my eyes. Then he leaned closer and whispered even more convincing professions of innocence into my ears.

Nonetheless, when it was time to vote on which townsperson to execute a moment later, I pointed my finger squarely at Dreamy. The game was Mafia, in which two people are secretly mafiosi who decimate innocent villagers by night; your job is to either discern who is lying, if you're a villager, or convince everyone you're just a regular townsperson while secretly killing your neighbors, if you're the mafia. Me, Dreamy, and ten of his closest friends were deep in the woods for a New Year's getaway weekend.

I'm not sure why I was so loathe to trust Dreamy, who was in fact telling the truth, except that I get a bit cutthroat when I play Mafia. I don't much like being a villager, but it turns out I'm a pretty successful mafioso, and I take great pleasure out of killing off the entire village and convincing everyone I'm innocent -- which is exactly what I did the first round of the game. (During the second round I was done in by an inept co-mafioso.) With the aid of my quietly clicking knitting needles barely anyone suspected me, but in the rare moments when my honesty was called into question Dreamy defended me vigorously. Luckily it didn't even occur to him that I could be the culprit, so I never had to lie to him -- luckily, because to be honest I think I could have done so without a second thought.

A couple hours after I finally threw in the towel, put an end to my killing spree and headed to bed, Dreamy joined me. He woke me up with the good news: "Baby, I just killed the whole village, all by myself!" he told me excitedly, to which I replied that I was very proud of him. Then for a moment his excited face got serious: "I'm so glad you went to bed. If you had been there I don't think I could have looked you in the eyes and lied to you."

Sweet, I know, but really. What an amateur.