It's not like I don't have my share of gross stories. I just don't want you guys to expect that amount of epic every post. Also it's not really my style.
But I will give you ONE MORE, just one more for this week. But I can't just hand my blog over to this ridiculousness you hooligans!
Alright. Story time!
So, fun fact, I've trained horses since I was 11 and professionally since I was 15. Circumstances have changed a bit as I live in the city now, but it's still a thing every once in a while.
Given that, it kind of makes sense that at some point I ended up in a relationship with another horse-person. I was 17 about to turn 18, he was 20 and already had his own farm. I had just graduated high school when him and I started dating, and he had inherited a farm from a family member of his. Ever since he'd graduated high school he'd been buying auction horses, training them, showing them in show jumping, and reselling them once they were trained up and proven. Had a solid living right out of high school. Him and I worked on the same showhorse farm, and one day the stallion he was working with escaped him and took off across the ring, tearing around like no one's business before jumping the fence and charging me down because he decided he was part bull. This particular horse was a severe abuse case and the farm was rehabbing him, and he'd taken a liking to Mark.
I narrowly missed being trampled by diving over a trough and faceplanting in the mud. As I clawed my way out of it, sputtering, dripping wet, and covered in mud that was half horse poop, I found myself being pulled to my feet by a grinning cowboy with a quiet-as-you-please stallion in tow.
And he asked me on a date.
How romantic. But not nearly as romantic as our first kiss. (you're wondering where the puke story went, aren't you?)
Him and I were both a bit conservative in our dating views, and we were both painfully shy. We did little more than spend a lot of time together and hold hands/sit close. Surprisingly sometimes "slept together" (and by that I mean in the 100% innocent way). It wasn't until around three weeks after we started dating that we moved on from the stage that 12-year-olds hang around.
We had gone on a showjumping tour with a few of his horses up for sale and a couple of other workers from the showhorse farm. In one of the competitions that we were entered in, a gelding of his planted his feet, came to an immediate stop before a fence, and sent him flying head-first into it.
Which looks like this:
He came out of it with a concussion and I was put on Mark-isn't-allowed-to-sleep watch that night because our friends kinda sucked.
He had the usual symptoms from the concussion; a little fuzzy-headed, some speech and balance issues resembling drunkenness, and was absolutely giddy on top of it from the pain meds they gave him. We were sitting in his bed in the hotel room watching TV. He just kept staring at it and giggling quietly every once in a while. We were watching hockey. He kept turning to me (I was drawing to pass the time doing nothing) and saying "you're so talented. I love you and your talent." which after the 5th time just made me roll my eyes and tell him to sit up straighter so I knew he wasn't sleeping.
After a while I resigned myself to just skipping between watching the game and watching him. At one point, he rolled over and suddenly had a serious face on, which made me panic because my brain instantly jumped to "he is about to die."
Instead, he just mumbled in a slur "you are SO... beautiful."
I was about to sarcastically tell him that he was adorable when he was concussed, but he did the movie-thing (which he told me later was on purpose which, in hindsight... how corny) and interrupted me by kissing. He retreated from my face with the world's most stupid, goofy grin on his mouth like a 5-year-old who had just done something devious and found it hugely amusing. I was a little thrilled, not going to lie.
The moment quickly ended when his grinning face turned around and violently puked all over the tasteful green carpet. He did this multiple times, and spent the rest of the night hovering over the toilet with my sitting on the bathtub's edge. Between gasping and vomiting and coughing and a good show of manly, many crying, he tried to apologize for "making it the worst possible moment ever" and really the image was so heartbreakingly pathetic that it made the moment that much more awesome.
And hilarious. I spent a good majority of the time trying really hard not to laugh at him because the image was just so comical and the series of events couldn't have been more perfect. My desire to laugh was outweighed by the fact that I did, in fact, feel sorry for him because the concussion seemed to have gone from giddy delirium to ultimate shame, sadness, and pain. But still. I was reeling over the conquered territory of mouth-touching and seemed to have caught all of his giddyness.
We dated for a while after that until he had an impressive business opportunity halfway across the country, and I couldn't move because of university-things. Then that ended.
Still. I have discovered that cowboys make the best boyfriends, and vomit is fully capable of enhancing your first kiss experience.
LOL! too good! Do you compete too?
ReplyDelete