They Ride Horses, Don't They?

When I was a little girl I asked my dad if I could have a horse. He told me....."sure....when my ship comes in". My brother and I thought he really had a ship, and would wait daily for it to come in, carrying my pony and his Red Rider BB Gun. One day, we went to the beach, and my dad pointed out a big ship in the horizon. "See, there it is" he said. We wondered why it was taking so long for it to come in.

Needless to say, my dad didn't have a ship, and I didn't get a horse. But I never stopped dreaming about one.

I watched all the TV shows with horses in them....Bonanza....My Friend Flicka....Mr Ed. When I grew up, I rode horses at the local stables. That was way before liability insurance skyrocketed and you could actually rent a horse at a stable. My secret dream was to meet a real cowboy and live on a ranch. Imagine my excitement when it almost came true.....or so I thought.

I met my faux cowboy when I was 34 and he was 39. But wait, let me back up a bit.

I lived in LA in the early '80's, where I had a good friend who also loved horses. Every Saturday morning, we'd get in the saddles and run freely through the woods, reliving our childhood fantasies of being Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet. Unfortunately, she moved to the east coast and I was without a riding companion. Until.........

Until......the ski club I belonged to got a group together to take horseback riding lessons. Every Friday night for 2 months we'd meet at the stables by Magic Mountain and learn the fine points of horsemanship. One night a new guy showed up to class. I had seen him at the ski club meetings and on a couple of ski trips, but I did not know him. The next week, I broke my tail bone while roller skating at Venice Beach, so my riding was put on the back burner.

Now, fast forward a few weeks. This young cowboy asked me out on a date, and we went putt-putt golfing. Golf, he told me, was his....ahem...second favorite sport. As soon as I healed and was able to get back in the saddle, we joined my fellow riding students for an afternoon ride. As the horses were beginning to cantor, my friend's stirrup broke and I accompanied him back to the barn. As we approached the barn, the horse decided to roll over, with him still in the saddle.

For some reason, he was reluctant to get on a horse after that. But he still rode with me from time to time. They were short rides. They were walks, actually. But that didn't matter. The guy seemed to love horses. I had met my cowboy.

Now fast forward a few more months. I moved back to Portland, and he came with me. One of the first things I did was open the Yellow Pages to find the phone number of the old stables where I used to ride. "How about next Saturday?" I would ask him. "Ummmm......I was thinking about golfing on Saturday" was his reply. Every time.

I'm not sure if it was before or after I had the wedding ring on my finger that he said "There's something I have to tell you. I really don't like to ride horses".

What?!?! Had he been leading me on, just like my dad with his ship?

"Why did you pretend to like horses?" I asked him.

"Well, you pretended to like golf" he replied.

Hmmph. Now 23 years later, I really enjoy the game of golf. And my horse?.......now I'm waiting for my ship to come in.