Wiggleworm Captured by Professor

Do you ever wake up and wonder whose life you are living and why? Do you ever look at your spouse and think, 'what was I thinking?'....don't answer that, your spouse reads this blog too. Mine, however, does not, so I am safe. How do you make a life work with someone that is so different from you? And why does it seem that every marriage is being lived mostly for only one of you. I know some are fortunate enough to carefully consider each other's dreams and likes and dislikes but I knew I was in deep trouble the second day of my honeymoon. He had decided we were going to the beach. Okay. Visions of scuba diving, hang gliding, parasailing, day long boat trips danced in my head. I look over at Gaston, lying motionless on the beach WITH A TOWEL wrapped around his entire head & face & think to myself, 'uh-oh'. So from that point on, my life was nothing like the life I had known growing up. I suppose the first clue was probably the wedding itself when he is out posing in his tuxedo while several people were busy trying to pry my hands and feet off the door frame I had grabbed onto refusing to go out there because I had changed my mind. Most of our wedding pictures are of the groom, not the bride. He had thoroughly enjoyed picking out his tux, I pointed to a dress and said, "that one, let's go". As soon as I could escape from the reception, I ripped off the dress, put on my bathing suit and went swimming. The old baptist ladies were appalled and I finally had some fun. I had absolutely nothing in common with the person I had just signed a lifelong contract with. I am restless, constantly bored if I'm not moving. One of my nicknames as a kid was "a wiggle-worm in hot ashes" because I couldn't be still ; Gaston's nickname was "The Little Professor", because he just sat there, watching. Now he sits there, sleeping. I need about 4-5 hours of sleep, get up in the middle of the night to see what I am missing. My most comfortable temperature is in the forties, fifties means time for shorts, sixties and seventies I start sweating & feeling downright tropical. After that, I'm gone. Gaston needs it to be eighty and above at all times. I have the car windows down in the winter, he has them all rolled up tight with no air on all summer. He sleeps with 3 blankets freezing to death and I sleep with a fan blowing on me. I want to live in Alaska, he wants to live in Florida. I want to camp and hike and be on boats; he loves hotels, jacuzzis & body building at the gym. I could live for days on saltines and potted meat and he loves all you can eat buffets. I know at this point I have lost all sympathy from my female readers. I have the perfect husband, he cooks gourmet meals, he shops, he makes me stay in hotels and go to nice restaurants, poor me, right? It's true, I know. But you gotta remember that I grew up with The Crocodile Hunter kind of men for a Dad & Brother. I was surrounded by wildlife at all times and spent as much time on boats as I did on dry land. I was always with my dad. But I think my extremely unsheltered childhood is a story for whole other future blog post . :) So everyday I still try to make peace with the fact that I am married to a man who sits with his legs crossed at the knee, smokes a pipe and discusses books & film & who won't camp at the beach because he will get sand in his hair. I am abrupt, short & to the point, no nonsense, and he, shall we say, is not. I love to spend hours alone never speaking a word to another soul. He can't even stand to watch a movie alone. As a matter of fact it is impossible for him to watch a movie alone because I am the one who has to get everything connected and turned on. He can't hook up a VCR without me. His passion was for religion & culture, I came from a world filled with science and nature. Let the games begin! He loved Billy Graham crusades, I took the kids to hear Jane Goodall speak. I guess we turned out some pretty interesting well rounded kids because of it. We finally agreed to give up discussing politics because we were about to kill each other. No doubt, Gaston has made my world bigger and my life richer. His kids probably don't even know that he is the reason their lives are filled with movies, classical music, dancing, good food & most of the traditions they enjoy every year. I would slip right through every holiday and never notice it. When I met him, I only ate meat & potatoes, ("what do you mean chinese restaurants don't have steak or burgers?") & I thought classical music was boring and had seen maybe 3 movies that weren't Nature documentaries. I love whiskey, he loves fine wines and imported beer. He loves French cuisine, I love Jacques Cousteau. I love hound dogs, he wants pedigreed poofballs. I thought he was joking about paying money to build muscles in a gym. I guess I just assumed that all guys messed about in boats & built cages & caught wild animals & dreamed of a cabin in Alaska. He probably thought all women loved to dress up, put on makeup and go to the theatre. So for now, I try to remember to enjoy Gaston's world while still somehow holding onto who I am as well. His kids love their dad so together we stay, trying to blend these two opposing souls. There are definitely advantages. For those occasions twice a year when I need a hairbrush, I always know who to ask.