"Didn't he go dove hunting last weekend?"
"No, that was scouting. He didn't actually shoot any doves. He was just..." (I lost interest here but I assume she said, "looking for potential dove victims")
And then when you talk to the guy, all he wants to talk about is his obsession: "I've got some venison in the freezer that me and my brother-in-law killed ourselves."
Here are some other common husband obsessions:
Cars, remote control
Watching sports (I don't know that many who actually play sports, at least not on the level where I'd call it an obsession.)
All of these activities have one thing in common: they take up a lot of time. When husbands engage in these hobbies they are out of pocket for an entire Saturday. And in some cases, like with the beer and video games, their gear takes up lots of room in the house.
That's why I am proud to say that my husband is hobby-less. Now, he DOES play the guitar but he really only gets "obsessed" with it when he's in a band. In fact, he's been a member of two semi-famous groups--there was "Stain" from 1993-1995 which put out a tape--yes, tape--and the MBA cover band "Strictly Business." Haven't heard of either of them? Really? Hmmm, maybe they weren't all that successful. But he does have three guitars and an amp and they do take up some space.
Anyway, for purposes of this blog, Frank does not really have a hobby and it's wonderful. If he had a hobby then not only would I be annoyed that he worked so early and so late, I'd also be annoyed that he was gone all day Saturday, golfing or hunting or skateboarding. And on the days that he wasn't gone, I'd know that he'd really want to go and I'd feel resentful and he'd feel resentful and we'd get into arguments where I'd say, "I bet you wish you were deer hunting right now!" and he'd say, "Hell, yea, I'd rather be deer hunting! The deer don't nag at me like you do!"
Or if we weren't fighting about it, he'd want to TALK about it. "I shot a 83 over par with a handicap of 14...blah blah blah...sand trap...driver...blah blah blah...tee time."
In the evenings Frank is available to watch shows with me (and we pretty much agree on them although he rarely wants to watch House Hunters and I refuse to watch anymore episodes of True Blood). He's not holed up playing video games. On the weekends, I don't have to share Frank with a golf course or a deer lease or a basement brewery. He does, however, seem to need a hair cut every week: "I've gotta get my ears lowered," he always says. And I say, "AGAIN? You and your hair cuts!"
But if getting his hair cut is his obsession, now that's a hobby I can deal with.