I Married a Jersey Redneck

When Stan and I first started dating one of his friend’s wives said to me “You two don’t fit together.” Oh, really, I thought ~ this should be rich, let’s hear the rest…

She went on to say “You are too prissy for him” or “he is too rough around the edges for you,” maybe she said both but I can’t remember. I do remember her going on to say “it’s like you two are ‘beauty and the beast.'” Interesting…

I can say, for absolute certain, I am much less prissy than I was when Stan and I started dating…which is more than good. I can also say Stan is a little more “refined” than when I met him, which I’m not sure is so good for him.

When we met, he was a hunter…full on, no joke. He was my Jersey redneck. He hunted ducks, pheasants ~ any and all manner of fowl. He wanted to go hunting the morning of our wedding. I had to put the kibosh on that idea…I could just imagine them getting stuck some where out in the wilds of Kansas and not making it back in time for our 3 o’clock nuptial mass.

I had the music blaring through the house the other night as we were cleaning up the kitchen and I was reminded of Stan’s redneck ways and my more than prissy attitude when the song “Ladies Love Country Boys” came on…

It pretty much summed up Stan and me ~ except he wasn’t a cowboy from Kansas he was an Army guy from New Jersey…my Jersey redneck. He drove a truck. He liked to hunt. He kept a can of smokeless tabacco in his car, his bag, his room ~ everywhere. He had a “spit” bottle in the cup holder of his Bronco II. He loved guns…

My polar opposite. I had never dated anyone who did any of these things. Hunt? NO WAY. Drive a truck? You’re kidding, right? Chewing tabacco? Can you say EWWWWWW? Guns? Never shot one before in my life. I’m sure I wasn’t quite the treat his parent were looking for when I showed up at their door with my giant suitcase full of the latest fashions, gobs of make-up and massively long hair that was perfectly styled all the time.

But somehow the Jersey redneck and the prissy little Colonel’s daughter managed to end up getting hitched.

When I was pregnant with Zach, I was 100% certain he was going to be a boy. I also knew that Stan was salivating at the thought of having a hunting buddy years in the future. Unfortunately for him, the hunting gene seemed to have petered out. My penchant for saving every nest-less baby bird was passed on to Zach instead. So instead of taking the boys hunting and teaching them to blow into a duck’s beak to make it quack long after it’s last breath has left its body, Stan takes the boys to their hockey games and fulfills his rednecky ways through hockey.

Although, I have to say Stan is much more refined at hockey games than I am. I am the one who gets all hot under the collar when the game gets too intense. Stan just stands on the sidelines, quietly observing all of the redneck behavior others’ exhibit…including his formerly prissy wife. He just shakes his head and continues to watch the game they all love to play. My Jersey redneck and I have switched places just a little. I guess I should be thankful for that! The kids all benefit from a little refinement mixed in with a little redneck every now and again.

Oh, for the love of my children…

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