The idea of writing about the game of golf is as old as the game itself. Life gets busier and busier, but never so busy that one shouldn’t take time to write down the mysterious and life-changing experiences that can happen on the course, or even with a bucket of balls. The following is borrowed with permission from an anonymous Blogger. For the purposes of this article, we’ll call the writer “Brenda.”
Dear Blog. Soooo bugged today. My hair went frizzy as soon as I applied my anti-frizz that I bought at the golf shop next door. I guess whoever reads this should pay close attention: do not buy your anti-frizz at the local golf shop. Or your mascara for that matter. They say it’s water proof, but yesterday I cried a lot after hitting a bucket of balls, and at the end of the day the mascara was all over everything, including my cute Nike golf towel. I promised to never wash that towel for good luck and now I don’t know what to do.
Here’s what happened yesterday. So, my boyfriend John, is like, really into golf. And I’m trying to do everything he likes so that he’ll like me, you know? I don’t like any of the things that he likes, but I totally love him so I’m doing these things. One day, when I know he’s mine for sure then I’ll just tell him that I don’t like his music, his car, his hair, his parents, his personality and stuff, and it will all be okay, because by that point he’ll love me so it won’t matter.
So. Yesterday he wanted me to go hit a bucket of balls with him, and I totally wanted to go even though I didn’t really know what that meant at all, but I’m INTO him so, I was like, “yeah, I absolutely want to do that what do I wear?” He told me that I should be comfortable and maybe bring a sweater. So I went to the golf shop next door (guess I’m lucky! Golf shop right next door!) and told the cute guy behind the counter, his name is Roy and we completely have so much in common but I don’t pay any attention to him because I’m so in love with John. Anyway, I told Roy what I was doing, and he set me up with new Adidas and my cute Nike towel and some personalized Titelist golf balls (they say “Hey! You’re hurting me!” Sooooo cute!) and a couple of golf shirts and some cute socks that look great with my shoes and a golf bag even though I didn’t buy anything to put in it. I told him that I thought it was silly to buy all those bats right away. He completely agreed with me, but I love my new bag and I put all of my curling irons and fishing rods in it. Roy asked me to go fishing with him, but I couldn’t because I was getting ready to hit a bucket of balls with John.
So. John picks me up and there I am in my new cute clothes and my hair looks okay because I hadn’t used the anti-frizz yet (but I DID use the new mascara!) and it’s very obvious that he had no idea that I “liked” golf so much. He said my shoes looked brand new and I told him that I just am so anal about taking care of them and off we went.
Okay. Hitting a bucket of balls can be fun, but not if your boyfriend is constantly telling you what to do. I just wanted to throw them up in the air and swing at them with that pole/bat thing he gave me, but he kept getting all shifty and embarrassed and making me put each ball on the ground and try to hit it from there. It was so stupid. I think it’s because he knows I can hit better than him and he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of the other people. And obviously they didn’t want to be embarrassed either, because they were all just setting their tiny little balls down and hitting them from the ground, and being so still and hush hush. I mean, sure, they’re balls went a long way, but image how far they’d go if they actually just took a swing! I didn’t get it and John made me cry because halfway through the bucket he said we had to go, so I went back to the golf shop and told Roy about it and I cried like crazy and that’s when Roy gave me my money back for the mascara. But because I think I might really like Roy I’m going to only Blog about golf for the rest of my life. It’s my little promise to myself.