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When I was a newlywed, I dressed up one day in an outfit with a neckline a wee bit lower than I would consider wearing in public and hopped off into the living room in hopes of getting some attention from my husband. My husband was lying on the floor admiring a tank full of…hmmm …what was in that 10-gallon tank so many years ago? Well, anyway, he glanced up at me and went back to looking at his fish—and so began my competition with the very thing that brought us together—fish!

We met at a college social. I only talked to him because he was studying marine biology and I was still new to the hobby and very excited about fish. I had landed a job one summer at a pet store back when all I knew was that the mean man at Wal-Mart had once told me that I couldn’t put neon tetras in a bowl. I bought my first tank for some hands-on experience since the main part of my job was helping customers with fish. When I came back to school I set up a tank just for fun and put in a blue ram, an angel, and some other stuff. Oh how I loved my Ram. He was fairly shy, but would always come out for a visit when I sang to him (my singing seems to have an opposite effect of people!). Well, one day I noticed a small white thing on him and I knew I needed help right away. I called all the apartments in his building asking for "the marine biology major". He told me there was no hope and when my beloved ram died I gave him a lovely burial under the bush by the door of my building, but the marine biology guy never went away. To make a long story short, we married, combined tanks, added a few new ones, and we now share a 2-bedroom apartment with two beautiful daughters and 12 tanks of fish.

I like our fish so don’t get me wrong, but they have added an interesting dimension to our marriage. For one, I have two or three hundred hungry mouths to feed when he goes to work in the morning—some of whom are pickier than my kids. Then there is the 2-3 hours I spend with him every other week doing tank maintenance, while at the same time taking care of the kids and any other household stuff that needs to be done. I once tried to surprise him by having the tanks cleaned before he got home—I think he was studying for finals at the time. Well, someone else in the apartment complex turned on their cold water and his big, beautiful julidochromis was upside down before I realized what happened. Of course I had to confess to cooking his favorite fish, and though it actually caused less friction than the first time I cut his hair, the experience was very traumatic for me. I can’t count the number times I have flooded kitchens and bathrooms over the years; enough that he has taken over the siphoning part and all I have to do is scrub (and get that Fluval cleaned and running again!)

Most of my husband’s friends aren’t as lucky as he is. They are only allowed two or three tanks in their house. I’ll be honest though I can’t wait till we have a house with a fish room so I can decorate the living room in a more feminine fashion. Most fish wives are very supportive though. I meet a lot of them at our local club meetings. Bob’s wife, for example, let him build a house (at least as big as my apartment) in their backyard just for his fish. She even helps him out there every now and then.

I enjoy outings to the fish store and still take my two little ones to the 6-hour fish auctions in hopes of finding something new and exciting, or maybe just something we’ve always wanted. I’ve even spent hours researching different fish topics. Partly so I don’t kill any of the fish in my care. Still, as my family grows, the time and energy that I have to devote to our fish is waning. Sometimes the poor things don’t even get breakfast until well into the afternoon. (That’s the fish, not the kids!) I don’t spend much time watching them anymore either. Sometimes I’ll point out something new and exciting only to find out that he noticed it three or four weeks ago.

People often visit my home and comment on how relaxing it must be to have so many fish. Maybe I just know too much about them to consider them so very relaxing. The only bully we have right now is the skunk botia. The peacock fry have been safely removed from their parents and are doing well so far. The neons are always trying to steal the frozen brine from our little puffer (my pickiest of all eaters). The spike-tail paradise has stopped chasing the swords in the river tank. A salt treatment killed off whatever it was that the gobies caught, and we found a slow leak in a filter to be the source of that icky smell in the living room so things are pretty peaceful right now in the fish department.

Our relationship is coming along pretty well too. That would be my main piece of advice to all you fish-heads and your wives. Your relationship as husband and wife is the thing that you should worry about the most. Enjoy your fish, but don’t let them overwhelm the relationship. Figure out what works for both of you. Wives, learn a little so that you can share in his excitement when he brings home a rare and exciting catch or when his exotic whatchamacallits finally bred. Husbands, cultivate a little interest in something your wife enjoys, you’ll both be better off. Take good care of each other—peace will reign in your homes and your fish will be happy and secure!