A couple of weeks ago, Liz Wheeler went viral on X for a post that listed men’s least attractive hobbies according to women.

While Wheeler (and now the community note) clarified that the statistics presented were satirical, it still managed to stir up quite a bit of controversy. The top hobby on the imaginary “most hated” list was video games.

What if regularly spending six consecutive hours playing video games isn’t bad because it’s unattractive but because it’s actually unhealthy?

Predictable gender war crossfire ensued. Men hissed back:

“Women like you assume your company is more interesting and valuable than a good video game. You are incorrect.”

“Women really do hate when men are happy doing something that isn’t centered around them.”

“Well, we're not going to sit around and watch the Titanic for the tenth time.”

On one hand, it is understandable to feel defensive when you perceive that something you personally enjoy or take pride in is generalized and belittled. This is the essence of stereotyping, and no one has the stomach for it any more. On the other, is the response proportional to the perceived offense, which was simply an expression of preference?

The internet has become a battleground for gendered infighting, and the constant bickering has done nothing but send us farther into our respective corners. We all want to generalize but not be generalized. Meme warfare offends this sensibility. It’s not for the faint of heart.

But — and hear me out — stereotypes exist for a reason. What if regularly spending six consecutive hours playing video games isn’t bad because it’s unattractive but because it’s actually unhealthy? In other words, what if it’s unattractive to women because it’s bad for men, not bad for men because it’s unattractive to women?

There's growing evidence to suggest that gaming can be just as addictive as gambling, leading to withdrawal from and loss of interest in social life and problems at school and work.

According to recent study on what's been termed internet gaming disorder:

Current prevalence estimates of IGD vary widely (2–15%). ... Prevalence may be underestimated due to low response (surveys take time away from gaming) and underreporting (a criterion of IGD is hiding one's extent of internet gaming). Yet, even by conservative estimates, with 318 million people in the US playing digital games, at least 5 million (probably many more) meet criteria for IGD, experiencing personal, social, and academic difficulties.

Perhaps women’s intuition isn’t as shallow as some have made it seem. Perhaps hard-core gaming, as the study suggests, indicates a deeper problem that impedes long-term social success in life. It’s too easy to dismiss Wheeler and the women who agree with her as nagging busybodies who just don’t like it when men “have fun.” Maybe some of them are. But maybe, deep down, some of these guys don’t like their reflection. Accountability is a bitter pill. Distraction is easier.

That said, on the particular level, does it really matter if a guy is a gamer as long as he isn’t hopelessly addicted and antisocial about it? If a gamer finds a woman and they fall madly in love, is he still “unattractive”? Certainly not to his sweetheart. And conversely, if you’re a woman who finds gaming unattractive, don’t date a gamer. It really is that simple. Who cares?

As one commenter said, “Attraction is subjective; hobbies don’t define someone’s worth or attractiveness. Crazy thought: Maybe we let people enjoy what they love without reducing their value based on personal preferences for entertainment.” Well said.