One summer afternoon back in 2001, my husband arrived home from work having cleared out our savings account and towing 2 jet skis behind his car. All without my knowledge. His explanation was that a buddy from work was selling them and he had to make a decision quick because another guy was also interested in them. (If you haven't figured it out yet, my husband is the type of guy who telemarketers and used car salesman dream of.) Needless to say, this was followed by a fight. Savings account aside, our 3 kids at the time ranged in age from 2 to 7, so from a mom's perspective, this didn't seem like an appropriate 'jet ski' phase of life. But it was done and we were the (angry) owners of 2 pieces of water craft that neither of us had ever ridden, much less owned before. This could only spell disaster......The first time we took them out to the local reservoir we opted to go without the kids. (The less people injured in this process the better, right?) We got them into the water, got em started up, and we slowly journeyed out of the no wake zone into the wide open water.....and then we let those suckers rip. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was having a blast! But I turned around and noticed my husband sitting in the middle of the water not moving so I headed back in his direction. Just as I got close enough to ask him what was wrong, his jet ski (with him on it) silently and slowly rolled upside down and he disappeared under the water. I'd like to say that the first thing that crossed my mind at that point was concern but I couldn't get past the fact that I'd seen manatees at the zoo roll over exactly like that. (You can't help what goes through your mind, people.) His head, topped with his Ohio State hat all askew, popped out of the water and he was pissed. It turns out his engine sucked up his tow rope and that thing was dead. He managed to roll it back over and was trying to get it restarted while I circled him with my jet ski so that he didn't get hit by a passing boat. I thought I was doing a nice thing so I was stunned when he suddenly screamed, "QUIT CIRCLING ME LIKE A D*** SHARK!!!!" (Yikes.) That left me with only one option.....I rode to some open water nearby and enjoyed my jet ski.
He wasn't having any luck getting it fixed so he started trying to swim it in. He'd push it, swim till he caught up with it, push it again, and swim some more. From where I was, this didn't look like the best idea, but I wasn't about to say a word. Finally a passing boat took pity on him. He got on his jet ski and held onto a rope while they slowly towed him in. I was following behind and began to notice that his jet ski was slowly starting to sink. It was getting lower and lower into the water as they pulled him along. By the time they reached the dock, all you saw of my husband was his shoulders and head being pulled behind a boat while he used his legs to desperately cling to his jet ski that was completely immersed under the water. Just when you think things couldn't get any worse, as the boat pulled alongside the dock, he and his jet ski floated straight under it......um, that could have gone better......
He didn't say anything on the ride home and I tried not to glow from my newly discovered love of a jet ski. We took them out several more times and each time, without fail, I had a blast and he didn't. Maybe someone should have discussed this purchase with me first, hmmm? Maybe someone learned their lesson about first talking to me about major decisions.....or maybe not. I came home one day to find that the jet skis weren't in our driveway anymore. I ran inside thinking someone had stolen them only to have him tell me that he donated them.....to Amvets. (Insert another fight here.)
Don't get me wrong, it's not just the jet skis. This is our pattern. He gets excited about something that I don't want, buys it despite my protests, I end up falling in love with it, he ends up hating it, and he gets rid of it. (ie; the Bow Flex machine that was going to get him a "beach body by June of 2006"......I ended up using it every day only to come home and find it in our garage sale.)
I'd like to say he's learned his lesson but I'd be lying. So for my own protection, I'm the one that learned the lesson. Last year he wanted to buy a used weight lifting machine. The enormous kind that you should only find in your local YMCA. The game played out......I told him we didn't have room for it; he promised himself a beach body and dreams of an increased batting average in softball......it's sitting in our rec room. He's used it twice. He has no idea that I've been using it 5 days a week for over a year. I complain to him often how much I hate it and beg him to get rid of it. That assures me that it won't end up at Goodwill.
I'd love to tell you that I have a beach body as a result of that machine. No such luck, although I did lose 25 lbs with its help. (I wish I could thank him.) But he was right about one thing. I've never hit softballs so far in all my life......
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