Golfing Rules According to LeRoy…

I went golfing the other day with a friend and quickly realized why I don’t go more than 2 or 3 times a summer: I am pitiful! Fortunately for me, the friend that I go with doesn’t mind that I need 4 swings to hit the ball. My “Oh, man!” comments when I miss are simply followed by her “I was looking the other way, dear.”

I asked my husband LeRoy if I could go golfing with him several years ago. Not that I liked golf (I thought it looked boring on tv) or that I had ever gone before, but because I felt that it would be a fun thing to do together. I should have guessed by the look on his face that “golfing with wife” was not on HIS list of fun things to do. “You don’t really want to go golfing with me,” he said. “I don’t?” “No, you don’t,” he continued. “It’s really hot and you get sweaty and stinky.” I raised my left eyebrow and gave him the look I inherited from my mother. “Well, if it’s so nasty, why do YOU go golfing?” I asked. “Because it’s a man thing,” he answered. A few more words of “wisdom” from my husband did nothing to convince me that golfing might not be my thing, so he finally relented and told me I could go with him. “There’s only one catch,” he said. “Since we only have one golf bag and set of clubs for one person, you can’t golf. All they will let you do is carry the bag.” I thought about that for a minute and said “Okay, that makes sense to me.” (I have since had the word “gullible” surgically removed from my forehead.)

He decided to go to the golf course at Lockwood. Looking back, I realize that he was actually trying to get away from Lamar where the fewer people who recognized us, the better. I would not have cared if that was the case because I was having a great time…right up to the ninth hold. My shoulder had developed a permanent indentation from hauling around all the golf clubs, my legs and ankles were scratched and bleeding from pushing through the woods and grass to look for stray balls that he had hit. And my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth because of what I felt was a major case of dehydration. I was beginning to believe my husband: maybe this was not such a good idea after all.

LeRoy was finishing up the last hole when an older gentleman and obvious golfer walked over to me. “Why aren’t you golfing with your husband?” he asked. I was quick to explain the Lockwood Golf Course golfing rules to him in case he was planning on bringing his wife to the course and had only one set of clubs. As I finished my last sentence, the words trailed off as I realized that he was staring at me with his mouth wide open. “What’s wrong?” I asked him. It took him a few minutes to regain his composure before replying: “Your husband told you that and you BELIEVED him?” And before I could answer him, he turned and walked off, stopping every few yards to double over and laugh, wipe his face, and then resume walking – only to repeat that entire scene again and again and again.

My husband walked up. “I wonder what he thinks is so funny?” he asked me. I immediately told him the conversation, beginning to end, and stood with my arms crossed, ready to do battle. But, without missing a beat, my husband had the last word: “Oh, what would he know about the Lockwood Golf Course rules. He’s from out of town.”

 

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