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Crazy Stuff I Make My Husband Do

By Kattina Rabdau-Fox
Singapore

[Introduction from Dave: In a reckless and stupid move, I have decided to let my wife, Kattina, write an occasional column for Globejotting, entitled, “Crazy Stuff I Make My Husband Do.” She introduces her new series today. Then, depending on what she says about me and whether or not we are still married, she might be back on Monday with her tale of dragging me up a Sri Lankan mountain in the middle of the night.]


On our third date Dave admitted, “I am not an outdoorsy person.”

When one receives the message that a potential mate is not outdoorsy, it comes as a shock to the average Seattleite.  The concept that someone might not like spending weekends on ragged arêtes, or whitewater kayaking, is a foreign concept that garners sideways glances from people trying to get into the insane parking lot at the REI outdoors store.

As much as I love spending time on mountains and in water, I also appreciated that this guy admitted to not being “outdoorsy.” In the Northwest, that’s akin to sprouting a second head.

I liked Dave because he was funny and a bit dorky, and wasn’t a gear junky in any respect.  He was just a kind person who I was growing fond of.

Me in my natural habitat.

When we were still in the wooing phase of our relationship, Dave entertained the thought of  hike. I wasn’t about to lead him into something that would kill him, but I was thinking that this guy was bound to like nature and hiking more than he liked being alone.  So I did what any right-minded outdoorsy girl would do; I took him up to Mount Rainier for a casual 14-mile hike to Spray Park, a gigantic meadow on the flank of a volcano.  I managed to freak him out about 17 times by telling him stories of people breaking legs near a waterfall on the way up, by getting a gray jay to land on my hand, and by racing back so we wouldn’t have to hike in the dark through bear country.

To his credit, Dave did the entire hike without admitting any discomfort.  It didn’t hurt that I appeased him with a stop at a motley roadside dive bar on the way back.

Dave in his natural habitat.

So life with Dave began with a date and progressed to a hike and a dive bar. And while we began to learn about and acknowledge each other’s passions (One of Dave’s is Celtic rock, for which I have only a limited affinity), we developed the understanding that love and togetherness didn’t mean I had to go to every Paperboys concert with him and he didn’t have to climb Mount Saint Helens with me.  We would dabble in each other’s passions on occasion, and for that there would be a lot of acknowledgement of the other’s selflessness and most likely one or two alcoholic beverages to help smooth out ruffled feathers.

Fast-forward five years;  camping trips, Celtic rock concerts, Yosemite hikes, beer festivals,  biking in Vietnam,  bagpipe music, Scandinavian history tours,  road trips, cabin rentals, geriatric punk band revival tours, and paddling around in kayaks all have come and gone without either of us losing appendages or killing the other.  We decided it was time to finally commit.

Now we are hitched, and the gloves are coming off.  Now it is time for the big reveal:  There is going to be crazy stuff I make my husband do.

Published on Thursday, April 5, 2012

3 Responses to “Crazy Stuff I Make My Husband Do”

  1. Erin
    April 6, 2012 at 12:44 AM

    Great article, Kattina! I fully support your torturing Dave for our entertainment! (And I trust that you won’t damage him so much that I still can’t enjoy a beer in a dive bar with him when we’re on the same continent…)

  2. Nancy
    April 6, 2012 at 9:07 AM

    I loved reading this!! I only wish I could get my husband to do any of this shit.

  3. Alexa Willingham
    May 6, 2014 at 4:38 PM

    This is some crazy shit. I wish I could get my girlfriend to do the things that you and Dave do. Big fan! Post more of your crazy adventures. Holy crap this blog is amazing. Keep posting. I am intrigued.

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