I felt rather lucky when I first met my wife. She was on a high school shooting team and attained Marksman rating on a .22 bolt action.
That said, things turned down the day her grandmother was shot and killed by her grandfather. We were originally told it happened while he was cleaning his gun, but that was just a story to get the family through the funeral. In reality, Grandpa had been suffering from dementia and Alzheimer's for nearly a year, but in the past several months would just get angry for no reason. So my father-in-law and his brothers (7 of them!) decided to get the guns out of the house, but they didn't know about that one. It's suspected that he was having a little rage incident, Granny told him to calm down, and he shot her.
A few months after this, I brought my dad's 9mm home after a scare at the apartment complex we lived in. I was showing her how it worked, and she was staring blankly at me - it was equal parts not knowing what it was and how it worked, and fear.
Our next trip home, I scheduled a trip to the range with my uncle, a local county jailer. The first time she shot it, she limp wristed and it jammed. She only put two mags through it, and I was disappointed but didn't want to press things - I really was not sure of what was going through her head. Precariously, I asked her what she thought as we were leaving - "It was fun, but kinda loud... can we get a silencer?"
Now, we're talking about her getting her permit, her own gun, her own training, and possibly opening a gun store in the future.
This May will be 8 years. When we first got married, the only thing we had in common was church. Now we at least have something else.