I once dated a girl (and no, this one was real) that was obsessed with her horses. She owned and rode several.So, naturally I had to act interested in riding horses. Acting interested meant that I had to ride them. And I had to be enthusiastic about it. And I had to treat the horse like it was made of the flimsiest tissue paper. Since I had a tendency to yank on the reins like they do in Westerns, yell “Yee Haw”, and poke them in the ribs with my heels, I was soon in deep disfavor with the girl whose philosophy was (I think) to simply imagine what you wanted the horse to do. Very nuanced, and it seemed to work for her. But it never worked like that for me. I guess I just wasn't 'one' with the horse.
Long story short, I learned that, yeah, horses are finicky and fragile, that they aren’t able to gallop as long as they seem to in movies, and finally that women who ride horses are pretty picky and can be real bitches. Boyfriends of women who are obsessed with riding horses never rank higher in the pecking order than the horse, and often rank under horse feed, saddles, and shrubbery.
And I also learned that riding horses does something to crotch/groin muscles that takes a week or so to get over.
To the Shwack shack with you!