I Do. But Why?

Horse Nation had a post on Top 10 Perks of Dating/Marrying a Horse Girl. I object to “girl” as would anyone with this much frost on her roof. However, it did make me wonder what Hubby gets out of living with my horse fixation. BTW – he knows he’s in it for the long haul. At one point, I idly floated the possibility of having no horses and doing other things with our time. He didn’t even stop to think. “No. I’m not living with you without a horse.” He’s a keeper, I tell you. So, aside from the wondrousness that is my serene and equitable disposition, what does he get out of the deal?

I understand competition. Get up at 2 am so we arrive in time to warm up before your boat race? Do all the driving so you can rest? Hand me the keys.

I understand toys. Carbon-fiber bicycle? Of course. If you are going to participate, you need the proper equipment.

Unless I’m dressing for a show, my looks are low-cost. I wouldn’t know where to get manis, pedis, salon cuts, or this year’s fashions. I once cut my hair with a set of clippers (Horse Nation #8). Seriously. I had long hair. I wanted short. No haircuttery would believe that I wanted it so super short. Wasn’t the worst my hair has ever looked.

I have a flexible attitude toward dirt. A person who has eaten leftover pizza during morning chores has lost her finicky cred.

I am in no position to object to dog hair. I still get a little stunned by large amounts of dog poop. Horse poop dries up to become essentially hay. Carnivore poop is .. nothing one wants to think about.

More on toys. We have a farm. Therefore, we have a tractor. Theoretically, we both can drive it. When it comes down to cases, he seems to be the one in the driver’s seat. Furthermore, when Hubby had an accident with our old tractor, I demanded he shop for the most expensive, latest model tractor that he could bring himself to buy.

Such a deal.

How does your horse hobby (or whatever) help your relationship?

Prior horse & husband post: Husband Training.

3 thoughts on “I Do. But Why?

  1. The competition thing is a powerful argument. You want to spend all weekend knocking clay targets out of the air with a noisy weapon of mass destruction? Godspeed, darling, just don’t be giving me any grief the next time I have a 7:50 a.m. dressage ring appointment. In Quebec.

    I always thought of my squeeze as “horse-tolerant” at best, but when Parker was born three years ago, he was absolutely smitten. As in, he spent more time out in the field with mare and foal than I did, and he shot about 12,000 frames in the first week. I have to admit, it was pretty adorable.

  2. Mine is in it for the truck. And the tractor. And the farm that goes with it. Interestingly enough, I’ve never longed to have horses in the back yard. I *like* boarding barns.

  3. Mine shares the passion. Thirty years ago I took a perfectly sensible city boy and turned him into the equivalent of a thirteen year-old horse-sick kid. Now I’m the one who has to say, “No, we can’t get another horse. We already have three that we can’t possibly ride enough.” Like you, he knows I’ll push to get the biggest, baddest farm stuff and he’s OK with a reading bin in the bathroom that’s chock-full of farm catalogs and horsey literature. Sometimes I dream about having a clueless partner who doesn’t have an opinion about everything horse related, someone I can bamboozle with my riding finesse and knowledge, someone who doesn’t say, “Sorry, I gotta ride …” when I have a list of things that need to get done. Other times it’s cool to know that he loves our horses almost as much as he loves me. Maybe even more?

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