Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Psychological Studies & Human Behavior 6

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four teenagers talking about the psychology of ‘Loss Aversion’ and why losing a simple game hurts twice as much as the joy of winning.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   admits that securing a victory simply feels like avoiding something negative rather than a true celebration?

2   points out how game creators exploit this psychological phenomenon to keep users engaged?

3   decided to completely give up a particular activity to protect their emotional well-being?

4   mentions experiencing physical symptoms of stress when their status was threatened?

5   observed that this behavioral pattern is not just limited to themselves but affects their peers too?

6   was surprised to learn that there was an actual scientific term for their intense frustration?

7   changed their approach to an activity to focus on improvement rather than the final outcome?

8   felt disproportionately upset over the loss of something with no real-world value?

9   believes that the fear of failure makes people adopt overly cautious strategies?

10   regrets how their reaction to a defeat ruined an otherwise enjoyable social occasion?

The Pain of Losing: Why We Hate Defeat More Than We Love Winning

A Liam

I’ve always been incredibly competitive, especially when it comes to family board game nights. Last month, after a narrow defeat in a game of Monopoly, I completely lost my temper. I ended up storming out of the room, effectively ruining the entire evening for everyone involved. I felt terrible afterwards, but I couldn’t understand why losing a silly game provoked such an intense, irrational response. A few days later, I was reading a psychology blog and was absolutely fascinated to discover that this extreme reaction actually has a scientific label: ‘loss aversion’. The article explained that human beings are hardwired to feel the sting of losing twice as sharply as the joy of winning. It was a massive eye-opener for me. Having realised that my brain is naturally biased to overreact to failure, I’ve decided to completely opt out of competitive games for the foreseeable future. Protecting my emotional balance and maintaining family harmony is far more important than securing a meaningless victory.

B Chloe

For a long time, I was obsessed with a popular multiplayer video game where your global ranking is visible to everyone. The pressure to maintain my status was immense. Whenever I was on the verge of being demoted, I would experience genuine physical distress; my heart would race uncontrollably, and my palms would become incredibly sweaty. The fear of dropping down a tier completely overshadowed the actual fun of playing. Despite this, I refused to just throw in the towel and uninstall the game. Instead, I realised I had to tackle my loss aversion head-on. I deliberately shifted my focus away from the leaderboards and started concentrating solely on developing my in-game skills. If I executed a complex strategy correctly, I considered it a successful session, regardless of the final score. By redefining what success means to me, I’ve managed to strip away the anxiety and actually start enjoying the gameplay itself again.

C Noah

I used to be entirely addicted to a trivial mobile puzzle game. It featured a daily streak mechanic, rewarding you with virtual coins for logging in and completing challenges consecutively. I had diligently built up a streak of over two hundred days. When I finally forgot to play one evening and lost my progress, I was genuinely crushed. It sounds ridiculous now, but I was deeply upset over the loss of a completely worthless digital badge. After taking a step back, I began looking into the psychology behind gaming apps. It turns out that programmers are fully aware of loss aversion and actively weaponise it against us. By threatening players with the loss of a streak or a virtual item, they successfully keep users glued to their screens out of pure habit. Realising how easily my emotions were being manipulated by clever software design was a harsh, yet necessary, wake-up call.

D Maya

Whether I’m playing a casual game of tennis or a highly competitive card game, the fear of losing always dictates my actions. Because the psychological sting of a loss is so potent, I naturally tend to play it safe, rarely taking bold risks that could potentially backfire. It is a very defensive strategy, driven entirely by the desire to avoid failure. What is even more striking is how winning feels. Whenever I manage to secure a victory, I rarely experience genuine joy; it is almost always just a profound sense of relief that I didn’t lose. I used to think this was just a personal character flaw, but recently I’ve noticed my classmates displaying the exact same tendencies during school sports matches. They, too, become overly cautious and react to a win with an exhausted sigh rather than a celebratory cheer. It seems loss aversion is a universal human trait.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four young adults reflecting on the ‘Sunk Cost Fallacy’ and the painful decision to finally abandon a failing relationship they had invested years into.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   mentions a specific incident that served as the ultimate catalyst for leaving?

2   admits that the dread of re-entering the dating scene kept them trapped?

3   confesses they ignored warnings from loved ones due to the time already invested?

4   highlights the physical or mental fatigue caused by trying to salvage the bond?

5   points out that shared monetary obligations made walking away seem impossible?

6   experienced an overwhelming sense of liberation rather than grief post-breakup?

7   realised that clinging to fond memories was not enough to sustain their future together?

8   states that their reluctance to accept they had chosen the wrong partner delayed the split?

9   finally understood that their partner was never going to revert to their former self?

10   expresses concern about how their wider circle would react to the end of a long-term commitment?

Walking Away: Breaking the Sunk Cost Fallacy in Relationships

A Liam

For years, I was completely blinded by the ‘sunk cost fallacy’. My ex and I had purchased a flat together, and the thought of untangling our joint mortgage was utterly paralysing. Consequently, I convinced myself that throwing away our shared assets was a foolish move. I spent months walking on eggshells, desperately trying to breathe life into a bond that was clearly expiring. The sheer emotional toll of constantly patching things up left me utterly drained; I was running on empty. My parents kept asking if I was okay, but I simply brushed them off. Eventually, the resentment grew too heavy to carry. The day I finally packed my bags and handed over my set of keys, I braced myself for a wave of devastation. Instead, an immense weight was lifted off my shoulders. Experiencing such a profound unburdening, rather than heartache, confirmed I had absolutely made the right call.

B Chloe

I stayed in my previous relationship for over five years, long after the spark had completely fizzled out. If I hadn’t been so terrified of downloading those dating apps and subjecting myself to awkward first encounters all over again, I would have walked away much sooner. The prospect of starting entirely from scratch with a stranger kept me firmly rooted in my comfort zone, no matter how miserable I actually was. Whenever we had a massive row, I’d immediately scroll through our old holiday albums. I’d use those snapshots of our early, carefree days to justify staying, convincing myself we could somehow get back there. However, it gradually dawned on me that nostalgia is a terrible foundation for a relationship. I realised that romanticising the past couldn’t magically fix the glaring incompatibility of our present. We were simply prolonging the inevitable out of habit.

C Noah

Breaking up felt like admitting a massive personal failure. I had spent years boasting to everyone about how perfect we were together, so swallowing my pride and acknowledging I had made a terrible misjudgment was incredibly tough. I kept telling myself that the friction between us was merely a temporary glitch. I was foolishly holding out hope that the sweet, considerate person I had fallen head over heels for would miraculously resurface. I routinely made excuses for her cold behaviour, attributing it to work stress or financial worries. But the penny finally dropped during a particularly miserable anniversary dinner. It suddenly became crystal clear that people evolve, and she had fundamentally transformed into someone whose values completely clashed with mine. Acknowledging that she was never going to turn back into the girl I met at university gave me the necessary push to finally end it.

D Maya

Looking back, the red flags were glaringly obvious from our second year together. My closest confidants repeatedly took me aside, gently expressing their concerns about his manipulative behaviour. However, I stubbornly turned a blind eye to their advice, fiercely defending him simply because we had already dedicated so much time to one another. Furthermore, our lives were so deeply intertwined that I was plagued by anxiety over how our mutual friends would react. I constantly fretted over the inevitable gossip and the awkwardness of people being forced to pick sides once a split became public knowledge. What ultimately severed the tie, though, wasn’t a gradual fade, but a specific, unforgivable argument. When he deliberately skipped my sister’s wedding to go to a football match, something inside me just snapped. That blatant display of disrespect was the definitive wake-up call I needed to finally break free.

Exercises:   123456