I extended an invitation to my husband to come to the concert tonight at Carmel of Reno, because it occurs to me that it is the type of thing that he would actually like, and it might help to give meaning to his holidays, which are generally about him sitting in his chair, re-watching series he's already seen, and playing games he's played for years. So I asked him if he has any interest, because it it's at the monastery, which has an impressive view, and the music is professionally done, for the most part, excluding the part where I have a solo, but then he would get to hear a song where I have a solo verse. Also, this type of Christmas music is the type that he likes. If he didn't like hymns and sacred, classical holiday music, I wouldn't invite him.
And he replied that he was sorry to miss it, but no, not this year. I don't believe he has actually come any other year, but this past weekend, he had to spend time fixing his computer, which cuts into the time where he can play a game he's played for over 10 years, cursing all the time at it. If he had mountains of free time and no stress, he would come, I'm sure...or find a reason why he couldn't. Which is fine, because we are all different and have different needs. But I know the feeling of living my life with dread, which colored everything I did; the feeling of not ever wanting to go anywhere or do anything. But realizing that what I thought I wanted was never enough, and getting tired of getting to the end of the day and still feeling unfulfilled, I pushed myself out there, against my comfort level, to have what might be interesting or meaningful experiences. Life is too short, and free time too valuable to not partake of beautiful things. But that is only my view, not his, so he has to do what he thinks will be meaningful to him, I suppose.