My parents have been forcing me to go fishing with them my whole life. They thought that over time I would get into it, and even become good at it like my folks are. Well, sixteen years later I haven’t gotten good at it and I haven’t gotten into it. If I’m being honest, I hate fishing.
I started pretending to enjoy it about ten years ago when I realised that I was always going to have to go fishing. Even at six years old I could see how upset it made my parents when I told them I didn’t want to go fishing. They took such offence to it, that at six years old I decided it wasn’t worth arguing with them anymore. And so, ever since then, we have gone fishing together as a family once a month.
Four years ago, after not showing any interest in fishing beyond sitting on the boat each month, I asked my parents to buy me new fishing rod holders. You should’ve seen the looks on their faces. They were acting like heaven had just come to Earth, as if their whole lives had led up to this moment. If I’m being honest, the only reason I asked is that I knew it would make them happy. I thought I should probably do something to boost their confidence, seeing as it had been six years since I’d done anything else.
Two weeks ago, just before our monthly fishing trip, our boat got a hole in it. The boat needed marine stainless steel fabrication, which in Melbourne, is quite hard to come by. We actually had to miss that month’s fishing trip. I was stoked.
I think I’d like fishing a lot more if I could actually catch fish. In sixteen years I’ve caught ten fish. That’s less than a fish a year. My parents catch fish every time we go out onto the water. Fishing just sucks.