So, you want to date a horse girl. Yeah, her pants are tight, her skin is tan, she wears baseball caps and drives a truck. To the right kind of man, this smelly little creature is simply irresistible.
If only they knew the dark truth behind the seemingly attractive, low maintenance bull$#@& façade we project so well.
It takes a strong man to forge the long haul with an equestrian—probably a man who is punishing himself for something he did as a child. If you think that just maybe you have what it takes to be one of these men, it would be only fair to give you a quick rundown of what you might expect on an average first date with a professional horse minion.
Isn’t he cute, all innocent and unaware?
What To Expect From A First Date:
Before you let a horse girl into your vehicle for a date:
If you’re one of those guys who keeps his car pristine, takes pride in a good wax, thorough detail, slick Armoralled leather, maybe even a little tire conditioner… stop. Lock your doors. Do not let that filth monster inside.
The first thing she will do is smear mud along the lower interior door panel with her boot as she climbs into the passenger seat. If she removes her jacket, forget about your meticulous detailing. That dream is OVER. Hay, straw, grain, and whatever else has collected in the deep pockets of her coat during the day will now be circulating around your car, propelled by the air vents, swirling into your eyes and mouth.
Your floor mats belong to her now; she’s claimed them with her barn mud. That pine tree air freshener is no match for whatever heinous stench is wafting up from those paddock boots, and your freshly Armoralled passenger seat will forever have a dark butt-stain from her full-seat breeches, which are covered in horse hair, dirt and sweat from her bareback ride into the barn that afternoon.
At this point you may be taking comfort in the notion that although the interior of the vehicle is, at this point, fully polluted, surely the exterior remains unscathed?
Chances are you picked her up from the barn, The driveway most likely consisted of dusty gravel, if you’re lucky. Consequently the shining chariot you so lovingly waxed is now a dull poopy earth tone. In fact, you probably drove over a few piles of horse excrement as you neared the stables, and now every time you open your door the hot smell of fresh horse crap hits you like a Mack truck to the sinuses, and you dry gag loudly. She may express concern and ask if you’re all right, but she’ll probably just laugh at you and stomp the remaining mud off her boots as she walks toward the restaurant.
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What To Expect If You Attempt To Take Your Horse Girl Out To Dinner
She will open the door for herself, and maybe even for you. Do not be offended by this gesture—she’s aware she’s stronger than you. Take it as a compliment.
The hostess will be startled by her appearance and scent but will collect herself and the menus as she shows you to your table … way back in the corner… far away from other humans.
Don’t pull her chair out for her, as this may be seen as a threat. She’s spent all day trying to sit on unruly wild animals who routinely attempt to scoot out from under her; this chair is no different. Worry about yourself.
As she opens her menu you may notice how filthy her hands are. Just a friendly heads up: She’s probably not going to wash them.
She may also predominantly use her barn paws to shovel food into her mouth. Don’t judge her too harshly—she’s spent the entire day force feeding large land mammals and hasn’t had time to feed herself yet.
She’s going to out drink you. Please don’t feel the need to keep up with her. She’ll probably order a tall craft beer with an even taller alcohol content, or just straight liquor in a cup. It’s unclear what it is about the horse industry that breeds such an enthusiasm for the drink, but it does, and she will.
She’s going to order more food than you. If she orders first, don’t panic. You don’t need to compete with her 24-oz. steak, loaded baked potato, side of mashed potatoes, cheese fries and bread basket.
Order what you want. Find comfort in the knowledge that she could care less about how much you eat, what you eat, or how you eat it. She will be so busy laying waste to her own feast, she will have little time to observe your table conduct. It is best not to watch her feed. Avert your eyes as much as possible—some things can’t be unseen, and you’ll want to like this girl.
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If you’ve made it this far, you probably think she’s pretty interesting, at the very least worth a dirty car and a little emasculation. Great work—you’ve lasted longer than most of the male population.
She will be exhausted from her rapid caloric intake and so will require coffee and dessert. The coffee should be Irish.
Now here’s where things get interesting. Likely other girls you’ve dated are happy to let you foot the bill. Most horse girls however, are fiercely independent strong women who take pride in their ability to fend for themselves…. and several 1,500-pound beasts…and a dog or eight. If she hasn’t had a catastrophic vet bill earlier in the week, she will throw down her card without pause and ask to pay for her portion of the meal. You may argue for a few seconds, until you actually look at the total, then readily hand the two cards to the waiter.
Post-Dinner Conduct
You can try to open her car door for her as you both reach your newly horse poo-scented vehicle, but you will probably be ridiculed. It was a nice gesture.
This is the part where she will do something no other woman you’ve taken out on a first date has ever done to you before. Within mere seconds of you turning the key in the ignition, flipping on the radio, and backing out of your parking spot, she will be asleep.
Congratulations, you survived your first date with an equestrian. If she really likes you, she’ll agree to a second date. This time she might even have you pick her up from her house, she’ll have showered, dressed like a normal civilian, and there will be no sign of those revolting poop encrusted paddock boots.
At a certain point, these men become resigned to their fate.
You’ve passed her test—welcome to your new life as a long-suffering horse-husband. If you ask mine, he’ll tell you he wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m still convinced he’s punishing himself for something he did as a child, but I’m not complaining.
Alice Peirce was raised as a self-described “feral horse farm child” in Howard County, Maryland. She’s made efforts to leave the horse world over the years but always comes back and has worked for a number of people in various disciplines. Currently she’s riding young race horses and training foxhunters in Monkton, Maryland, where she hunts with the Elkridge-Harford Hunt.
