Unpacking My Obsessions

We all have our quirks—the things that reveal who we are, giving others the clearest glimpse into our souls. For some, it’s an elaborate collection of houseplants (affectionately named, of course). For others, it’s a borderline unhealthy relationship with fantasy football matchups. In my case, it’s two equally baffling yet endearing hobbies: saddles and soup. Stick with me here.

Yes, you read that right. Saddles and soup. At first glance, they may not seem to have much in common—one belongs on the back of a horse, the other in a bowl warming your hands. But these two obsessions have shaped the way I approach life, love, and even my sometimes-stumbling path toward understanding relationships. Allow me to explain the madness.

The Saddle Obsession: Or, How I Learned to Love Being Present

Growing up on a ranch has a way of making you hyper-aware of how small you are in the grand scheme of things. There’s nothing like being on horseback in the shadow of the San Juan Mountains to remind you of your place in the world—not too big, not too small, just enough to matter. Saddles, to me, are not just leather and craftsmanship; they embody the intentionality of presence. When I’m cinching one onto a horse, every step—from the stirrup check to the snug tug on the latigo strap—demands focus. Skip one step, and you pay for it later when your saddle slips or your balance wobbles.

The rhythm of riding taught me patience—not just with unruly colts but with myself. On dates, though? A whole different story. I used to rush through dinner conversations, eagerly peeling back the layers of someone’s personality as though racing a trail ride against sunset. But saddlery taught me the art of slowing down, allowing the moment to breathe. Seriously, relationships are nothing if not unintentional when you’re running full tilt without a saddle.

Practical takeaway? Think of your connections like tack on a trail ride: meticulously crafted, built to last, but only functional if well-maintained. Take time to adjust to each other’s pace. You don’t want halfway through the journey to realize you didn’t secure the essentials (read: trust, communication, and a shared appreciation for truly bad jokes) before you set off.

The Soup Obsession: Simmering Comfort, One Bowl at a Time

Go ahead, laugh about it. I’ve heard all the jokes. For the record, yes, I’m the guy who makes soup year-round—July heatwave be damned. One summer, I lost an afternoon to perfecting a green chile pork stew recipe because who needs air conditioning when you’ve got a bubbling pot on the stove, right? But in my defense, soup embodies everything I value in human connection: warmth, patience, and a whole lot of trial and error.

Soup, like relationships, rarely comes together the first time perfectly. My first attempt at posole tasted like dishwater, but eventually, the ratios of dried hominy to smoked paprika made sense. Dating’s no different. That charming first date where you accidentally spill your drink (me) or forget someone’s name immediately after meeting them (also me) might feel embarrassing, but it’s just a roux—a messy foundation meant to thicken your next moves.

And honestly? Soup reminds me that love is in the little things. The way I call my mom for the family recipe, even though “a pinch of seasoning” is about as exact as her instructions get. The time I spent chopping ingredients for my partner’s favorite minestrone as a surprise (relationship points gained). Or the quiet ease of sharing a bowl while binge-watching Parks and Recreation. You don’t need explosions of romance every day; sometimes, it’s warm soup in mismatched mugs that’s all it takes.

Quirks As a Love Language

Here’s the thing about obsessions: they help us uncover what truly matters. You might not care about saddles or soup (though I’d argue you’re missing out), but chances are you’ve got your own pair of unique interests that feel impossible to explain to anyone else. Lean into those. Better yet, invite someone into your quirks. Love isn’t about hiding what makes you weird—it’s about finding someone who laughs when you confess you’ve watched The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly 19 times and counting.

Here are three actionable tips for embracing your obsessions and letting them fuel your relationships:

  • Share Your Why: It’s not enough to say “I’m into retro video games” or “I collect rare cacti.” Explain why it matters to you. The “why” is where you’ll find common ground.
  • Look for the Overlap: You’d be surprised how seemingly unrelated obsessions open doors to connection. Maybe your love for birdwatching pairs beautifully with their passion for photography. I once bonded with someone because my leathery saddle obsession gave them an excuse to share their love of cowboy poetry.
  • Hobby Compatibility Isn’t a Must: Chemistry isn’t about finding a clone of yourself. They don’t need to love soup like I do; they just need to respect that my version of a vacation might involve hunting for antique ladles.

Saddle Up and Simmer Down

So maybe you don’t care much about adjusting stirrups or perfecting a slow-cooked broth. That’s okay. My point isn’t that you should adopt these obsessions; it’s that passion itself is contagious. Whether you’re crushing on someone you’ve just met or deepening a long-term bond, your quirks are your ticket to connection. They’re the stories you tell, the shared mysteries you create, and the moments that make life just a little less predictable.

Next time someone asks what you’re into, don’t downplay it. Say it proudly, even if it sounds weird. “Saddles and soup,” I say when the question comes my way nowadays, watching their confused yet intrigued expression unfold. If they can’t handle those, they don’t deserve the rest of me, John Denver playlists and all.

So here’s my closing thought: You’re not just crafting a life; you’re simmering it, adjusting the seasonings as you go. Don’t rush. Taste test. And when you find the right blend—when someone matches your stride or grabs a spoon to join the feast—it’s always worth the fuss.

Happy obsessing.