Can't we just hold hands and sing Kumbaya?: learning to value different interests within a relationship
May 10, 2010 A few weeks ago Bear was eager to check out a new outdoorsman shop that opened up in town. Since I had already driven by its location and had noticed a decorative canoe surrounded by posters of camping gear and a mountain goat in the store window, I assured Bear that I knew its exact whereabouts. Being skeptical about taking directions from a woman, Bear felt compelled to double check with his testicles, and his testicles, those balls of eternal wisdom and unfaltering GPS directive, sent us out towards Costco.
It was one of those off-beat and seemingly irrational man assumptions that us women humor and wait out with grace, if for no other reason than for something to laugh at later. Eventually Bear came to the realization that the new outdoorsman store had not set up shop in the middle of Costco's parking lot, so he gave into The Force of my Jedi ovaries and followed my directions, consequently leading us to our desired destination.
We walked into the store and glass eyes stared down at us from the collection of taxidermy that was mounted on the walls. Bear did his Tim the Toolman Taylor grunt and I stared in grotesque awe like I was walking into Ed Gein's house of horror. The place was equip with the usual: fishing rods, guns, and bows. It also offered a plethora of decorative trinkets with eagles and wolves painted on them, you know, for when using an eagle blanket as a window covering just isn't enough. The store also offered an array of hunting gear, and the women reading this should be relieved to know that all of the hunting gear was a available in a gender specific, camouflage pink, including camouflage pink lingerie for those who want to go fly fishing in hip waders and a g-string. But it was not the kind of quality undergarments you find in a specialty lingerie shop. It was more like what the near-naked, forty year old woman with an unmaintained bush holding a double barrel shot gun wears in that photo you accidentally come across while surfing the internet. And then you triple, possibly quadruple click back and try to navigate far, far away from that image and you shove it in the memory compartment that also holds autopsy photos of floaters and the 2 Girls 1 Cup video.
As Bear swooned over the bows and enthusiastically shared death stories with the equally as enthusiastic salesman, I started to think how peculiar it is that I am now committed to a man who hunts large game with a bow. I didn't see this coming. Me, the urbanized woman who enjoys literature and art and who holds the earth's creatures to her bosom and sings them songs in a munchkin voice is dating a man who kills things.
My experience of dating men with diverse interests has made me less judgemental, and it has also propelled me into a more mature mind set when navigating partnership.
He rubs my back as I fall asleep, is gentle with my handicapped kitties, and is adored by all children of the universe. And yet he keeps a knife in my glove compartment and tells me that if anyone ever tries to rob or assault me, "just stab them, baby." That's my Bear. I can confidently say that, yes, as long as I am with him, I will survive the zombie apocalypse.
My experience of dating men with various interests has made me less judgmental about people's hobbies. Normally I am open to trying new things with the men in my life, but will I be hunting game? No, I don't think so. I feel bad enough hunting animals on the xbox, and if I were to accompany Bear on a hunting trip, I would stumble around with a tear streaked face and yell "RUN, BAMBI, RUN!" in between hiccup cries. However, he has opened my mind a bit. He was brought up using activities like hunting and fishing as part of his survival. To him it is more genuine and economical, and for those of us who still eat meat and fish, I can only respect that. However, the hypocrisy of my carnivorous lifestyle clashing with my deep discomfort to kill for food is making me reevaluate my eating habits.
Maybe I will meet him halfway and go fishing with him. According to Kurt Cobain, it's okay to eat fish because they don't have any feelings.
Yeah, maybe. But he'll owe me at least one trip to an art gallery.
When Bear later described the location of the store to his buddy, he made sure to comment that I had given him bogus directions and misled him out towards Costco. "Goddamn women."If he wasn't twice the size of me I would beat him with a phone book.
different interests, gender, men, relationships, women in humour, story
Reader Comments (5)
they staffed that place with the people from the backcountry outdoors store that failed because the staff failed. I didn't really believe that til I went there last week and asked a simple question and got a total failure as a response. now i believe that.
at least they have a pretty decent selection of things to kill things with. that kind of makes up for it.
Does he hunt or does he use a gun?
PatZ: When we were in there a woman who should have been named Minerva helped us. Says enough.
Dalton: I think he only hunts with a bow. Doesn't have any guns at this time, and has made derogatory comments about hunting with guns.
Good because using a gun isn't hunting!
Unless we're killing zombies, of course.