Last weekend I went to Santa Anita Park to watch the horse races. It’s a twenty-minute drive east of LA and they have a giant statue of Seabiscuit there. There are two types of people who bet on horses: fancy as fuck people who wear giant hats and gambling degenerates. I got really into blackjack a few years ago because my boyfriend at the time really liked casinos. Although it was never my own money that I gambled so I guess that’s why it was really fun. I didn’t have any children who depended on me for college tuition so when I lost it wasn’t so terrible. I do remember making about five grand one night, and Casino is one of my favorite movies, so it was the closet I’ve ever felt to being Sharon Stone.
I had been to a horse track only once before, in Vancouver with my Canadian ex boyfriend who wore double denim. I’m not talking black jeans and a light-blue jacket (I rock that all the time). I’m talking stonewashed Levis with a stonewashed jacket. That’s some Jason Priestley Beverly Hills 90210 shit. I may have broke up with him because of that. I haven’t spoken to him in five years. He could absolutely be dead. I have no idea. Our date to the horse track was actually the last time I went to Vancouver. When I flew home my cat was missing and I never found her. I think I blamed Canada for death so now I have PTSD from anyone who wears double denim.
Anyway. I was reading about the jockeys and horses at Santa Anita Park, and wanted to make some bets. Before each race, you could see the horses with their jockeys trot around in a circle behind the track. I was really into this horse named Miraglo, for no reason at all, so I was taking photos of it. The jockey looked at me and said, “hola,” in his sexy Spanish accent. I replied back, “oh, hello,” and then imagined what my life would be like as his wife.
I’m going to assume his initial thought was, “a cute girl taking my photo, I wonder if I could have sex with her.” But of course mine was, “he thinks I’m cute, I wonder if I should give him my phone number and he can take me on a date, maybe on his horse even, and then we would probably get married and have children and live on a farm with a bunch of horses.” Right, because that’s exactly what would happen, Melissa. You’re so smart.
It’s stressful being a woman and not having control over thoughts about my future. Sure, I’ve met guys and thought, “I just want to have sex with him and not have to sleep over and then maybe call him like a week later.” But mostly I think of what my life would be like as their girlfriend or wife. I have never met a guy who fantasizes about being a husband. Those guys only exist on The Bachelor and OKCupid. If a guy I was dating didn’t stop talking about getting married and having kids I would have to break up with him for being too much of a girl.
Well, if that jockey had put some effort into getting my phone number I’m sure I would’ve already had our wedding planned. Wait, aren’t jockeys usually short and skinny? Yeah, nevermind, just googled average height/weight for a jockey and it’s 4’10 to 5’6 and weight is under 110 pounds. There’s no way I could marry someone shorter and skinnier than me. Son of a bitch.