Dating is hard.
Dating is hard. And dating as a "horse girl", in my opinion, is even harder.
The challenge is finding someone who would muck stalls with you, someone who will video your lessons, someone you can call after every ride, who will listen to you cry through the hard rides and provide comfort, who will cheer you on when you accomplish something good, no matter how small.
Ideally someone who loves horses too. Who would never ask you to "grow up".
I tried internet dating. I made sure to include a picture of Apache and myself. Almost like I was trying to give them fair warning. But that's the thing about most people. They think that they like horses. Or that they're okay with horses. Until they get into the nitty gritty of it. And I wasn't the type to bring a string of strangers around the horses. They're like my kids. You have to earn meeting them. And the ones that insist that they can ride, because "it can't be that hard". They made me want to punch myself out. Or put them on Apache and watch her send them flying. But that's just cruel. To Apache. She deserves good riders.
I have settled in the past for tolerance. Tolerance of my life's passion. Vague acceptance of my dreams. It feels like living two lives. And now, being on the other side of it, I would never settle for mere tolerance again. I'd rather be alone.
Do not give up what you love to placate someone else's lack of adventure. Do not sacrifice who you are just because he doesn't understand. He doesn't have to understand it fully. He doesn't have to keep up with you. But when it comes down to the wire, he should be able to call and tell you that Mustang Sally's sporting a limp in the right hind again. He should be willing to re-fill the water trough when you've been stuck at work a few extra hours one day. He should know how much Alfalfa "the brown one" gets and be able to scoop some grain on a Sunday morning when you're trying to sleep in past 6am, just this once.
And if that sounds like asking too much, think of all the things you've done. Learned to cook his favorite dish. Suffered through his video games. Memorized countless super heroes, their alias, and super powers. Cleaned the kitchen counters. Laundry. You know the quarter back of his favorite team. You can rattle off random facts about a fox bodied mustang car and the towing capacity of various RAM trucks. Why should it kill him to return the favor?
Trust me, when it's right you'll know. When the spare bedroom is a tack room, and there's 2 pounds of apples in the fridge, and cow manure on his truck wheels; you'll wonder why you ever thought the other guys had a chance.
So don't give up. And don't settle. And if it doesn't work out, he wasn't worth it. And you'll just have more time to practice your two-point and the sitting trot. Win win.
The challenge is finding someone who would muck stalls with you, someone who will video your lessons, someone you can call after every ride, who will listen to you cry through the hard rides and provide comfort, who will cheer you on when you accomplish something good, no matter how small.
Ideally someone who loves horses too. Who would never ask you to "grow up".
I tried internet dating. I made sure to include a picture of Apache and myself. Almost like I was trying to give them fair warning. But that's the thing about most people. They think that they like horses. Or that they're okay with horses. Until they get into the nitty gritty of it. And I wasn't the type to bring a string of strangers around the horses. They're like my kids. You have to earn meeting them. And the ones that insist that they can ride, because "it can't be that hard". They made me want to punch myself out. Or put them on Apache and watch her send them flying. But that's just cruel. To Apache. She deserves good riders.
I have settled in the past for tolerance. Tolerance of my life's passion. Vague acceptance of my dreams. It feels like living two lives. And now, being on the other side of it, I would never settle for mere tolerance again. I'd rather be alone.
Do not give up what you love to placate someone else's lack of adventure. Do not sacrifice who you are just because he doesn't understand. He doesn't have to understand it fully. He doesn't have to keep up with you. But when it comes down to the wire, he should be able to call and tell you that Mustang Sally's sporting a limp in the right hind again. He should be willing to re-fill the water trough when you've been stuck at work a few extra hours one day. He should know how much Alfalfa "the brown one" gets and be able to scoop some grain on a Sunday morning when you're trying to sleep in past 6am, just this once.
And if that sounds like asking too much, think of all the things you've done. Learned to cook his favorite dish. Suffered through his video games. Memorized countless super heroes, their alias, and super powers. Cleaned the kitchen counters. Laundry. You know the quarter back of his favorite team. You can rattle off random facts about a fox bodied mustang car and the towing capacity of various RAM trucks. Why should it kill him to return the favor?
Trust me, when it's right you'll know. When the spare bedroom is a tack room, and there's 2 pounds of apples in the fridge, and cow manure on his truck wheels; you'll wonder why you ever thought the other guys had a chance.
So don't give up. And don't settle. And if it doesn't work out, he wasn't worth it. And you'll just have more time to practice your two-point and the sitting trot. Win win.
Between the ears, on Apache.
Comments
Post a Comment