The year was somewhere around 1980, and an enterprising entrepreneur had bought the old four-bay car wash where my school bus stop was located and turned it into an arcade. The concept of videogames was still very new at the time, with Space Invaders, Asteroids and similar fairly straightforward shooters dominating the small market.

Being an enterprising lad, I quickly developed a business relationship with Mr. Capelli, the arcade owner. I'd fetch him sandwiches from Genuardi's market, pizzas from Tony's and run whatever other errands my bike and I could conquer, as well as sweeping up around the place and maintaining the pool tables, which were actually still the main moneymaker for the place. Little did I know that was about to change in a big way.

One afternoon, Mr. C. called several of my friends and me together to look at a glossy folder he'd gotten promoting a new game. It didn't look like much. The only controller was a joystick, and there was no shooting, blasting or exploding involved. The entire object of the game was to run around a maze eating little pellets.

Yes, you're ahead of me. It was Pac-Man.

In spite of our unanimous thumbs-down, Mr. C. ordered two of the machines, mumbling that maybe "the girls" would like to play it. The arcade crowd was pretty much all-male, with the occasional girlfriend watching indulgently as her man proved his studliness by waxing massive numbers of floating space rocks or invading critters.

In a couple weeks, the games were delivered, and we noticed before they were even plugged in that they were ... different. They were colorful and inviting, and when they were plugged in that Pac-Man theme music that is embedded in the cerebral cortex of any child of the '80s made your fingers start to involuntarily dig for quarters in your pants pockets.

The rest, as they say, is history. Pac-Man changed the videogame landscape, and for the first time women became a real market for videogame makers. Of course, the audience was still very male-dominated, and continues to be, which explains why games like Street Fighter and its interminable clones, rip-offs and reissues largely dominated arcades in the '90s. Of course, the video arcade itself is a dying breed thanks to the tremendous leaps in graphics, sound and overall playing quality of home videogame consoles.

Personally, my last videogame console was a Super Nintendo bought for my stepdaughters (uh, yeah, right) on which I became a grand master at Super Mario III. The intervening years have found me working two and sometimes three jobs at a time, and simply not all that interested in what seemed to be a "can you top this" sort of escalation of blood, gore and sexual content. I'm no prude, but foulness simply for its own sake isn't fun, it's tiresome. I love lopping the heads of zombies and alien monsters as much as the next red-blooded American male, but I draw the line considerably before things like raping and beating up women, which certain misogynistic game writers seem to think is the next big thing.

All that changed, however, when I saw my first commercial for the Nintendo Wii. Just like Pac-Man, Pong and every other truly groundbreaking advance in game history, the Wii has a "wow" factor that's off the charts. It forces the traditional videogame couch potato to get off his or her broad posterior and take part in the games. A level swing, a good backhand and a nimble flick of the wrist when releasing the bowling ball actually mean something. Oh, and if the boxing game doesn't help you get out your aggression issues, you probably should seek therapy.

In short, I fell in love the minute I saw one, but I didn't act quickly enough. The wave built slowly, but very soon PlayStations and XBoxes were gathering dust on the shelves while Wiis were harder to find than whiskey at a Baptist wedding. I told myself it was for the best, as with work, school, more work and two sons my free time is even scarcer than the elusive Wii. I didn't need something else on which to fritter away time that could be spent constructively.

Ever tell yourself something and realize you've stopped believing it before you finish thinking it? Yeah, it was like that.

My better half, the Ninja Shopper Supreme, saw my torment and took mercy upon me, tracking down a Wii with the sports package and completely surprising me with it as a 40th birthday present.

It's everything I thought it would be, and even the somewhat cute "Mii" feature is quite giggleworthy. In fact, if you'll excuse me, the Ninja Shopper has just questioned my manhood by way of beating my score on Wii Boxing, so I'll be going.

Will this be my last foray into videogame purchasing? Until and unless they perfect the holodeck, that's quite likely. But I'll keep an open mind!

Got a rant? Rave? Bucket of spare money? Drop me a line, anytime.