Three weeks ago my husband Paul bought me a rifle. He didn’t buy “his” rifle or “a” rifle — he bought my rifle.
He has one, and now so do I. His and her rifles. And since I have little experience with one, I’ve taken my rifle to the range a couple of times to get used to it. (Are you supposed to name your rifle?)
At first, I just rolled my eyes when he sent me a text saying he found a really good deal on this 16-inch carbine AR-15 with an A2 receiver and a M4-style collapsible stock at our local range and asked if he could get it for me. My first thought was “Don’t we already have one?” I forgot his favorite rule: two is one and one is none.
Now we are ready for the zombie apocalypse. Or a situation that would call for Paul to be at our business with his, while I stay home to guard the fort. I don’t know much about firearms, but I’ve read quite a bit about them. Some people would think that a perfect “girl gun” is a revolver or tiny semi-auto. I would argue that the AR-15 is a perfectly suitable “girl gun.”
Paul is the whole reason I know anything about guns. Before I met him, I didn’t care either way about them. Today, my knowledge is limited to the ones we own or used to own. Up until a few months ago, my first gun was the Kahr PM9 — seven rounds, baby!
I changed to the Smith & Wesson M&P Shield soon after it was released in June. It’s been great because it’s slightly longer than the Kahr but still has all the elements I like in the single-stack pistols. So going from the Kahr and S&W to the AR might seem like being on opposite ends of the comfort spectrum, but it really wasn’t.
The AR was surprisingly easy to handle, despite my preconceptions of every “evil black rifle” being cumbersome. I was sure my shoulder would be sore from taking the brunt of the recoil there. But, no. The hardest part is finding the right place to put my hand on the handguard to steady the barrel and resting my cheek on the collapsible stock for the best front sight alignment.
After Paul announced on Facebook that I now have my very own rifle, a friend immediately posted this photo, explaining it was what he thought it looked like:
My rifle is all black. If someone wants Hello Kitty, flower power stickers on a pink and purple AR frame, that’s fine. But that’s not me — or every woman.
To me, what’s most important is that my husband thought it was important for me to have my own rifle, for me to become familiar with it and to learn to not be scared of it. It might even become my Vera — my “very favorite gun.”
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