Making Me Nervous

 I used to have such good instincts about men, which is how I was able to survive and thrive as a private dancer. What happened to that? Part of it is: those men, I wasn't emotionally involved. I knew how to get what I wanted from them before the heart had a chance to mess things up. 

A few days ago, I was out at the ranch, and I was on the right side of Sawyer, saddling him up, when Cox approached me. He was right next to me, leaning down (the man is rather tall) and said while handling the pouch that was threaded to the back cinch, "For your snackies, in case you ever get hungry." He's smiling. It was the first time a man had been close to me besides the hug I gave my dad for Valentine's Day (he did buy me a box of chocolates). Was it bad? Was it inappropriate? I don't think so. I just noticed an up-tick in my anxiety until he left. I was worried I had horse hair on my face, and that he would have noticed (I did groom a shedding horse on a windy day). 

Talking to Cox makes me nervous, so I try not to do a lot of it. My therapist says I need to work on my assertiveness, and she wanted me to see if I could get my training bill decreased, but I didn't even ask him. I'm just going to pay him his regular amount. Why does he make me nervous? I want him to think well of me. Is there something more to it than that? Probably. But I haven't gotten it figured out yet.

Thoughts About Cleaning Stalls and School

 I've been thinking about my life, and having one of those "what does it all mean?" and "how do I make myself happy in the long run?" Maybe I was meant to just clean stalls because that makes me as happy as anything else. It's hard to screw up, so you don't have a boss hanging over your shoulder. You just have your job, and when you're done with your job, you're done. 

Maybe I was pursuing academic goals because I thought that would make my life have meaning because that was what society was bombarding my ears with--that message that said, "Finish a degree and you'll be a worthwhile person." Maybe I just wasn't meant to go to school. 

Of course, there are some real problems with not finishing college. Cleaning stalls doesn't pay very well. Obtaining a four-year degree helps in that department. And I probably will pursue a Bachelor's, but just not go on to get a graduate degree, like I always thought I would.

Taking Notice

 It was Mom's idea that I take lessons from Cox with Sawyer. That's how it all got started. It was interesting because Cox would not talk to me, and would flirt with my mother. I'm not really use to being ignored by men. I'm not in my twenties anymore, and I'm not a stripper. I don't put out that attitude. But damn, what the fuck is wrong with him? Why doesn't he notice me? Was it just about the money? I have my doubts that perhaps he's only loyal to the dollar. He has said that he's helping me because my mother has a horse in training (Lucy) and that my dad is looking for a finished cutting horse as well (all true). I would like it if he could be my friend, but I'm not naive. 

Then, slowly over time, he started talking to me, and looking at me, even though I really didn't talk much back. 

Most mornings, it's just Cox, and his assistant trainer, the Loper, who is very tall and lean. He's a good rider, and sometimes trains horses on the flag. Normally, I would be against that, but the Loper does a good job. The Loper doesn't talk much, and has known Cox for years. I usually start cleaning stalls on one side of the barn, and the Loper starts on the other side. He finishes before me. I'm slow. Dumping the manure wagon is the hardest part. But there's something about cleaning stalls that's deeply relaxing even though it's physically taxing. No one cares what the stall looks like after you're done (there are some standards). It's a mindless job. It's meditative. I don't like cleaning stalls, but I don't mind doing it either.

If you're cynical enough, you can say that Cox is just telling me all those things (that he likes me, etc) because he wants my parent's money and he figures helping me out will put in a good word with them. It's a lot of work to manipulate people like that, just for a couple of horses in training.  I don't want to think that's it, but I can't help the cognitions. He's pretty much said that's true, that's he's helping me because of my parents, but he tells me that he's my friend (that I have friends at the ranch). Where do you draw the line? 

 

Never One of the Guys

 So, my horse Sawyer has been staying in training with trainer, who we will call Cox, after famous, multi-million dollar earning cutting horse trainer Lloyd Cox. One afternoon I asked Cox if I could be "more involved" and that lead to today, which what Cox would describe as a "buddy system," I work for him, he trains Sawyer for me at a discounted rate. Make no mistake, a discount at $800 a month, and I'm losing money because the ranch is an hour away and I burn my discount in fuel costs driving that old Tahoe back and forth. 

"I like you," he told me the last time I was out there. We were in the pen that was set up with the mechanical cow (makes sense if you're a cutter). I was on top of Sawyer, who was puffing dramatically. He was practically yelling it. "You ride really good." More yelling. "If you broke Sawyer, you did a really good job because he is not an easy horse to get along with. He's a hard horse." I wasn't the only one who rode Sawyer. My friend John spent 60 days on him to make sure Sawyer wasn't going to buck me off, but still, I did most of the work. I didn't correct Cox. He was on a roll, and whenever he speaks, I let him speak and I don't say anything unless asked a direct question. I play dumb. It's better this way. He doesn't know that I started riding two-year-old horses when I was eight or nine-years-old, and that I started cutting at the NCHA level when I was eleven. I could have done something but then I stopped. I didn't finish what I started. 

There was an NCHA horse show at the local event center. My job sucked. I was expected to clean stalls at the ranch without any help. Ten stalls took me three hours. After cleaning pens, I headed over to the cutting, but the rest of the help had everything handled and there was nothing for me to do. So, I just watched the show most of the time. One day, we were all at a picnic table, Cox, his assistant trainer/loper and his farrier, who oddly enough works also as a loper. He introduced me to a woman who was sitting nearby as part of "his crew" (he made references to this fact that I'm part of the crew in his speech last time I saw him). 

When I was younger, ten and eleven years old, just learning how to cut, I was in love with my horse trainer. Praise or criticism from him fostered deep and lasting impressions. He was a god walking on earth. Any disappointment from him would be searingly painful for me. I was young and vulnerable then. 

I didn't tell Cox that I liked him back. It seemed to be inappropriate. He does have a girlfriend, but she is hardly around. Sometimes I get the sense from her that she doesn't want me around, and some days, she seems more at ease with the situation. Women, in general, have a difficult time in the cutting horse world. You can never be one of the guys. There are a lot of loper girls, but few female trainers. 

 The conversation got started last Friday because Cox wanted me to consider selling Sawyer to find another prospect that would take the training better. Cox talked about how to train Sawyer to be a cutting horse, he would have to "break his spirit." 

"I don't want it to get ugly," I said, referring to Cox training on Sawyer.

"It's already gotten ugly," he admitted. 

There's a way to train a horse besides beating them up.