Dating Story: A Self-Proclaimed Horse Whisperer?

Once when my mom was in California on a visit from Chicago I told her this story from my era of miserable dating experiences, and I started laughing so hard, I couldn’t talk. I might have even started to cry while in the driver’s seat zooming down the 5 Freeway. My mom had apparently never heard this doozy of a dating story about a man that I met at my church in Chicago who just was not the right one, even though we had a mutual interest in horses.

A few things before we start:

1. I have changed the name to protect the identity of this unique individual.

2. You have my word that everything here is true. I am not even embellishing to enhance this dating story.

3. I wish Quinn all the best.

The Story

Quinn was from a small town in Canada and a self-proclaimed horse whisperer. I met him at my church in Chicago about ten years ago. Long before I knew there was a man in California waiting for me. (Love you, Marky!)

Quinn had worked for one of the carriage companies that pulls tourists in those Cinderella type coaches around Water Tower Place in downtown Chicago. I think he might have even worked for Medieval Times at one point (was he a knight?!?!). That was interesting. However, as I got to know him, I found out several things that made me question his sanity:

1. He was lactose intolerant and used that fact against people he didn’t like. Namely a boss. Apparently he and his boss (for some construction gig) had to take a long trip to a job in the dead of winter. Quinn was mad at the boss for some reason and so he intentionally ordered a milkshake from McDonald’s prior to hitting the road. Quinn knew this would render him gassy and so he basically passed gas for two hours in the car with his boss, smirking all the while.

Someone asked, “Did your boss say anything.” The answer was no. I might have asked if Quinn said anything to his boss. Again, no.

So they rode in putrid silence with the windows up for two hours. He shared this fact with a mixed audience of men and women in a Bible study setting. AW-kward!

2. He wound up in jail for supposedly intervening when he saw a boyfriend and girlfriend duking it out on the streets. This fact came about one week when our Bible study host asked everyone, “So how’s your week going so far?” Most people would respond, “Things are busy at work,” or something exciting that was going on from being in a friend’s wedding to a bit of family news.

Quinn responded, “Well, it would be better if I hadn’t wound up in the clinker.” We all perked up.

The details on how he ended up spending the night in jail escape me now. I don’t understand how an innocent bystander who steps in to thwart violence would be placed behind bars unless something really serious went down. Another outrageous story that I wasn’t sure I believed, but I did learn a new word: clinker.

3. He once worked at a small airport as a squirrel sharpshooter. Or maybe it was mouse. A Canadian airport in the middle of nowhere had been plagued by rodents that were making landing dangerous. So it was his job to kill them, thus saving air travelers from the perils of vermin on the runway. At least that’s what he told us. He went into great detail regarding the weapon and approximately how many furry casualties there were.

The Plot Thickens

Things got a bit interesting when Quinn found out that I had a horse. He tried to use that piece of info to his romantic advantage.

Normally when one horse lover meets another horse lover, there’s a strong connection point. This typically starts with, “What kind of riding do you do? Do you, or have you had your own horse? What breed?”

In the case of finding out we had a mutual interest, I kept the details of my Thoroughbred on the downlow. Just because we were both single horse lovers, it didn’t mean we were meant to be together. Even if we lived in the same city and went to the same church.

My beloved horse D.C.

A few months after I first met Quinn, I moved into my own townhouse in Bucktown and I started having friends over, in an effort to connect and be social. Besides having a dog to come home to, nothing makes a house feel more like a home than having it frequented by friends. And so they came.

One time when people were over, Quinn commented that my overhead light in my family room was quite bright and suggested that he install a dimmer switch for me. I sensed where this proposition was headed, but I liked the idea of having dim lights so I said sure.

Quinn insisted on buying the dimmer materials himself and said he would arrive early to our Bible study the next week. I have to admit I felt kind of uncomfortable around him, although I couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason, but thankfully Beth (my roommate at the time) was going to be home.

Quinn showed up at my door wearing a tool belt, clutching a plastic Home Depot bag. I led him up my stairway to the family room where he then put on a headlamp before installing the dimmer switch. I felt awkward accepting Quinn’s generosity, but I was glad to have the dimmer switch installed. (And I do have a picture of this somewhere, but even if I found it, I don’t know the ethics of posting his picture). By the way, I reimbursed him for the cost of the dimmer.

Dimmer and a Date?

About a week after the dimmer switch episode, Quinn called me while I was driving home from the barn. His slow delivery seemed slower via my bluetooth.

“I’d like to train your horse. I’m kind of like Monty Roberts the horse whisperer.”

I did not laugh aloud at this preposterous comparison, instead I was mildly incensed. Comparing oneself to the likes of Monty Roberts is like a community theater actress comparing herself to Meryl Streep. His words were audacious.

“That’s nice of you to offer, but my horse is already pretty well trained. I’ve had him for years; he’s a show horse. We already get along well. Not to mention, I ride with a PROFESSIONAL  trainer at my barn.”

I didn’t want to be snotty, but I didn’t want to have him anywhere near my horse. The barn was a safe place, an escape from the city, and the grind of daily life. I couldn’t bear to share that with someone I wasn’t sure I even believed half of what came out of his mouth.

How would I introduce him to my friends at the barn? “This is Quinn. He likes horses too?” I would be lying if I said, “This is my friend Quinn,” and “This is my acquaintance Quinn,” didn’t sound good either.

A few weeks earlier I glimpsed Quinn trying to pet my Doberman Winnie with his foot when I had already warned my guests that she was afraid of feet. Winnie looked up at him with a sliver of white in her eye and shot out of the way. I said, “She’s afraid of feet. Don’t touch her like that!” Quinn smiled a smug, creepy smile.

Even if I made it clear to Quinn I had no romantic interest, I didn’t want to share my horse world with him. And I know that’s not very nice. He was new-ish to the area and a bit socially awkward. I felt guilty because I was supposed to be living by biblical principles like welcoming the stranger, caring for others, not being proud.

Quinn was not going down without a fight. He started to explain that he had horse training methods good even for horses that were already trained. I shut him down with my refusal, the exact words escape me now.

Resolution

In the wake of this unusual conversation between Quinn and me, Beth assured me it was not my duty to befriend Quinn. She said if he was truly just an awkward fellow trying to reach out and make friends, there were a whole slew of guys his age at my church who could take on that role. It was not my job. I could be free of guilt. She was right.

And whatever those exact words I used to say no, did the trick. He never called me again.

And the barn remained a sanctuary.

I still wonder if any of what he said was true.

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