I have ridden a horse maybe twice in my entire life. I was a kid both times, and the summer camp that I got shipped off to for a few days each August thought that it would be a good and fun activity for kids to learn the basics of horseback riding. They strapped a saddle on their smallest and tamest mare, led it around the barn a few times, and maybe let the kid trot around for a lap or two on their own. The horse looked bored out it’s mind, and for a moment I felt some empathy for the poor creature having to accommodate hordes of squirmy children pretending to be a real-life cowboy for all of two minutes.
Searching to share a common bond between man and beast, I gazed up into the dumpy horse’s face as I waited my turn, trying to convey a sense of solidarity. What I received in return was nothing but a cold, hateful stare, devoid of compassion and anything that could be called common ground. Lifeless eyes stared into my soul. Its long face gave a snort as it swayed from side to side. This terrified me. Now forced to mount a creature that I had absolutely no desire to be on whatsoever, and whom I was convinced wanted me dead, I clenched onto the reigns and gritted my teeth as this beast trotted circles around the barn. To this day, I absolutely do not trust any horse, and have legitimate fears about looking one in the eye.
Many girls, however, do not share in my fear. Quite the opposite, actually. It seems there are basically three types of girl when it comes to horses. The majority of girls like horses, maybe have ridden a few, but it’s not really a conversation with them. These girls are normal.
The next group of girls actually take an active interest in horses. Maybe their family owns a few, they enjoy the occasional ride, or they’ve even dabbled in some competitions or shows. These girls approach it as a hobby or interest, and while they can be a bit intense at times, they basically stay on the sane side of the continuum.
And finally there are girls who really, really love horses. Like, a lot. For these girls, horses are a way of life. They frequently wear their riding boots to class, get teary-eyed talking about the stables, and almost universally possess a weird talent for drawing their favorite horses on huge sheets of charcoal paper. Three-fourths of their Instagram are horse headshots with captions like “Riding is life” or “Thunder is the sound of hoofbeats in heaven”. These girls are unequivocally crazy.
At first, you see only the benefits. Sure, you can sense the instability lurking in her eyes as she regales you with tales from the stable, but you shrug it off. The riding puns practically write themselves, and pretty soon she’s playing cowgirl to your meat steed. She’s a freak in the sack, with thighs clenching around you like a vice, and for a moment everything seems good. She’s even down for butt stuff, because when you’re that equestrian-obsessed it’s practically a given. After your midnight rodeo, you send her out to pasture and on her way, fully expecting to never see her again.
But see her again you will. Because this girl will follow you, talking about the incredible connection you shared. Suddenly, this situation isn’t so cool. When you throw up a pic of you and your sister, you’ll get a text asking who’s the skank. She thinks the girl in the news who cut off her man’s junk for cheating was totally justified. And her laugh will drive you to madness.
I’ve heard tales of equine-obsessed girls having only anal sex exclusively because they thought it meant they were still a virgin. Fingers have been slipped into butts. Riding crops have been brought out onto the unwilling. Serious stuff, you guys.
Something happens when a girl spends so much time in the saddle. Suddenly every connection is special, every contact full of meaning. She believes every bond is so great as to be unconscionable to break. At some point, she will have equated you and her horse in the same vein, and that is not a position you want to be in. While it may bring out the butt stuff, the benefits aren’t worth the hassle. Sure, you liked pulling her hair, up until she set fire to your crotch. And yes, her pelvis could strangle a yak, but at what cost? It’s best to walk away while you still can.
I don’t have a great explanation for why this is the case, but I can assure you that this relationship is real. And it’s scary. And by all means, God help you if you find a girl into unicorns, because you won’t make it out alive. Just keep in mind my simple rule. While it may seem like fun to strap on a saddle and take one for a ride yourself, one look in the eyes will tell you all you need to know. That shit cray..