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If you had a baby that kept hitting itself in the head with a wooden spoon, you would bring it to your doctor and ask, what the heck is wrong with this kid? Or if you were smart, you'd simply take away the spoon.
But if you have a husband who seems to enjoy a similarly futile activity, like golf, or in my case, FISHING, it's not like you can hide his fishing rods. Distraction doesn't work either, I've tried. There is not a single piece of lingerie I own that can keep him off his boat when the mood (to fish) strikes.
My husband is a smart guy. You'd think he would eventually realize that he's not getting any better. He has been enthusiastically fishing for about 10 years and STILL only averages about 1.25 fish per year. The decimal is in the right place. And if you don't count the "branch snags" that he claims were 36 inch lake trout that got away, the average is more like .25 fish per year. There is a troubling lack of fish "caught" per fishing hour invested.
I may be troubled by this statistic, but my husband is not. When he sets out with rod and reel (and whiskey) he's grinning like a fool. The grin gets even wider if one of the kids agrees to go with him, which is only when he redeems an "I'll go fishing with daddy for 2 hours if he promises not to make me fish (or watch him fish) and I can read my book the entire time COUPON".
My coupons clearly state that I will be dropped off at the dock ON DEMAND, and that I cannot be yelled at for steering the trolling motor over his line and losing his favorite lure. (Not sure how he can have "favorites" when none of them seem to catch any fish, but maybe it's based on longevity.)
Rather than think there is something wrong with my spouse (and possibly with all men) I prefer to believe that his fruitless fishing efforts illustrate some of his most excellent traits.
Optimism. Perseverance. Fearlessness.
Yes, fearlessness. Each and every fishing trip comes with a near death tale, as well as "the big one that got away" story. "The day I nearly swamped". "The day the wind came up all of a sudden and smashed the boat on the rocks because both my lines were snagged." "The day I met the nudist in the kayak, and didn't realize at first that he was a nudist."
My husband is the 007 of fishing; danger follows him into every cove. I now make sure he has his survival kit before he heads out. If disaster strikes (or rather, WHEN disaster strikes) he'll at least have his waterproof matches, whistle, and above all, toilet paper.
So if you have a husband who relentlessly pursues an activity with glee but little improvement, AND a giggling baby that repeatedly hits itself in the head with a spoon, at least you know where the baby gets it.
And who am I to define fishing "success" or fishing "failure" simply by the number of fish in the pan? I think the name of my husband's boat says it all. No, it's not "The Dauntless, it's "Fishful Thinking."
There's a lot to be said for optimism in a mate. Sometimes, when you find the right guy, you catch and don't release.
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