Try each other's hobbies for greater marital intimacy

"Honey, I shot a buck," I announced to my husband as I trudged through the back door in my oversized blaze-orange getup. "I’ll need you to come out and dress him for me."

"How many points?" he asked.

"Six," I answered. "Only one shot."

"Good for you! I’ll help after lunch."

My rosy cheeks confirmed my six hours in a deer stand, and his lack of a runny nose suggested he had been warming in the house for quite some time.

Hooked

I recall more than a few times when I ridiculed Phil’s own passion for spending hours confined to a bucket-sized platform at the top of a tree-clinging ladder. "What’s the point of freezing yourself up there without bringing meat home?" I mocked.

I ridiculed his hunting videos without mercy. Watching grown men choked with emotion and clutching their erratically beating hearts at the sight of antlers sent me into spasms of laughter.

When I found out my hairstylist was a deer hunter too, I sputtered, "But, you’re so . . . feminine!" Her revelation made me think it was time to discover what it was that drew my husband to the outdoors.

We tried fishing. The first time, he looked me up and down and said, "You’re wearing makeup."

"Is that a crime?"

"We’re fishing, you know."

Of course, I knew. What did it hurt to look pretty while I batted my lashes at him and asked for yet another worm on my hook?

It was relaxing to sit in the boat with Phil away from the TV and other distractions. We talked. He was so sweet about taking the fish off my line for me and putting the creepy bait on my hook. I felt close to him.

Thrill of the hunt

When I suggested that I try deer hunting, he tilted one eyebrow. Then he took me shopping for blaze orange.

Phil’s preparation for hunting includes a shower with scent-masking soap. He airs his hunting clothes outside for weeks and sprays everything with a foul liquid that makes him smell like dirt and rotten apples. I, on the other hand, jammed my hair-sprayed tresses under a fluorescent cap with no worry about the cologne lingering on my sweatshirt. He suggested we hunt from different stands.

Within hours of sitting in the woods, I knew exactly why Phil loves it. In the hush of the breeze through the treetops, I could escape with my thoughts. At the first sight of a deer, my legs shook, my heart pounded, and I took back every word of previous ridicule. I finally understood Phil’s obsession.

This hobby sharing isn’t one-sided, though. I had the same sense of closeness to Phil the first time he sat at the table with me and rubber stamped a greeting card. (He’s probably hoping his buddies don’t read this so they won’t question his testosterone level. And I’m sure he’d rather they not know that he sneaks down to my stamp room to create handmade cards for my birthday and holidays – to the envy of my girlfriends.)

Making it work

Which of your spouse’s hobbies makes you roll your eyes? Perhaps you have mocked her love of sappy chick flicks or resented his passion for 18 holes of golf. Trying one another’s hobbies has enriched our marriage. Since I experienced Phil’s thrill for hunting, I complain less about the time he spends in the woods. Since he understands the joy I receive from crafts, he doesn’t fret about the cost of paper and supplies. Seeing through one another’s eyes has given us a new appreciation for each other.

Another benefit of sharing hobbies has been the bond that comes from spending time together. We laugh with each other. We laugh at each other. We create lasting memories and avoid living separate lives. Besides, it’s a cheap way of dating.

Trying one another’s hobbies can sometimes be sacrificial. Phil has no interest in attending a piano concert, but he is willing to go to encourage my interest in music. I have no desire to humiliate myself on a golf course, but if Phil asked, I would sacrifice enough pride to hit a few balls at the driving range with him.

I’ll admit my attitude wasn’t so great when I tried canoe-camping with Phil. The bugs, the grueling portages, the lack of bathrooms and electricity all made me irritable. At least I tried it. He won’t be taking up knitting any day between now and eternity, either. But we will continue to be open-minded about each other’s hobbies.

I’m just thankful Phil isn’t into hang gliding.