My husband and I have a kind of understanding. He goes hunting every fall and brings home enough venison to fill the freezer. I then cook the venison. He eats the venison. He loooooves the venison.
I push it around with my fork. Dessert, anyone?
Different people, different tastes. I did not grow up eating wild game, nor after nearly 15 years of marriage have I acquired an appetite for it. I’m more of a quinoa girl. But I know my husband enjoys his hard-earned meat, so I celebrate that. I participate in that.
Why? Because funny thing—marriage is not all about me. Crazy, right?
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