My beautiful lady Halo and I met when I was a mere 13 years old. She was so beautiful and stylish when we first met. Every teenage boy I knew devoted hours to studying her and I too was entranced by her. We got together shortly after we met, and every day after school we spent hours with each other. I enjoyed her quirkiness and her willingness to transcend the bounds of reality.

Then, my freshman year of high school, a new game moved in and turned heads. Her name was Call of Duty. She wasn't as colorful and quirky as my Halo, but she was streamlined and beautiful in a traditional way. Her thoughts were grounded in reality, she loved history, and she could actually climb over walls.

But I loved Halo, and I refused to be taken by Duty's charms. She reinvented herself several times, interrupted only by a terrible bout of PMS (Known to us as the "Big Red One"). But no matter how she redressed herself or what attitude she adapted, I stayed faithful.

She went into her "Modern" phase, and my whole school went nuts.  She'd brought her fashion out into the 21st century and I have to admit that I was sneaking glances at her. Yet still I stood by my faithful Halo.

Then last year, she perfected herself into another "Modern" phase I couldn't take it anymore. I gave into her.

I spent less and less time with my beloved Halo, drawn to how simple and popular Call of Duty was. I found more and more excuses to be alone with her for hours at a time, each kill bringing ecstasy better than the last. I tried to convince myself that I still loved Halo, and that this fling wouldn't last. But I knew better.

I sat Halo down and tried to explain. She was despondent.

But Call of Duty is so plain.

Do all those hours in Forge we spent together mean nothing?!

Just because everyone else thinks she's all that doesn't mean she is you know!

I listened, but she and I both knew it was a losing battle. I gently placed Halo into my games library, while Call of Duty lay with her case open on my 360, always ready for another round.

My friends who loved Halo spit upon me. I had not only broken her heart but broken theirs as well. They accused me of being "mainstream" and "going with the flow" instead of being with the game that was made for me. I had to admit, Call of Duty was kind of boring. But then I got my first "prestige" and it was like our relationship was back at the beginning; fresh and full of life again.

I regretted how I treated Halo, tossing her aside like she was an ugly Christmas sweater, and I only devoted more time to my new lover in order to drown my misery. But secretly I longed for my first love; the one whose love of sci-fi somehow transcended even MY nerdiness.

And my wish was granted.

A couple months ago, there was a knock on the door. I opened it and there was a small box, "Bungie" was written somewhere on there. My hands were trembling. Could it be?

I tore open the box and there she was. She had gotten a makeover as well, and one look at her made me realize how much I had missed her. How could it be? How was it that she had just popped up on my doorstep. My father informed me; he knew how much I loved Halo and now much I was suffering without her. So he secretly pre-ordered her for me.

Reconciliation was anything but easy however, and Halo made me pay for my adultery. She switched up the controls so that when I tried to melee, I ended up switching grenade types. She told me how there were ten year olds across the country who were playing her better than I was.

But I put in the hours of devotion to show her that I was back. That I wouldn't leave her. And now again, I have found bliss. I will never leave you for Call of Duty again baby . . . . 'cept maybe in November.