Your Golf Bud
by Bud Key, Mid-Atlantic Director, TeeTime Golf Pass
Digging Myself Out of a Marital Trap
I’ve made a sacred vow I intend to keep: I will never, under any circumstances, ask my wife to “caddie” for me again. This promise stands out among the many I typically break after a bad round, such as practicing more, avoiding stupid shots, taking my time on short putts, or cutting back on the on-course Transfusions.
My wife and I have been married over 35 years and share most interests, but golf is the clear exception. In fact, she had never set foot on a golf course until a few months ago.
We were on vacation when I struck a deal with her (sound familiar, husbands?). I’d go shopping with her in the afternoon if she’d spend the morning at a nearby golf resort. It felt like a fair trade — much like when she convinced me to ditch my red sports car for a drab blue minivan after our second child was born.
Our first four or five holes were peaceful. She was perfectly happy driving the cart, enjoying the weather, and scrolling Facebook for funny cat memes. I was genuinely happy to have her company. I even dared to hope I might get lucky later, or better yet, she might forget the outlet malls and I could squeeze in another 18.
Then, everything went downhill.
By the turn at the clubhouse, she had stopped speaking to me. On a golf course, silence is usually golden, unless you’re with your significant other. What had I done? I ran through a mental list of recent offenses:
Insulted my sister-in-law? Nope.
Mentioned the new $650 driver in my bag? Not yet.
Stared a couple of seconds too long at the hot, early 20’s blonde (or was it a brunette?) beverage cart attendant on hole 7? Maybe. Okay, probably. But I was very discreet and barely noticed the lilac purple, deep-neckline, sleeveless criss-cross halter top she was wearing.
What grievous error had I committed to earn the silent treatment? With no other option, I finally mustered the courage to ask what was wrong.
Now, let me say that I love my wife dearly. She is my best friend, an amazing mother and grandmother, and… well, she rarely reads these columns, so I’ll stop sucking up. It’s also important to note that she was a high school science teacher who, for 35 years, terrified even her most unruly students. That’s how I knew I was in serious trouble when she answered in her dreaded “classroom voice.”
“It’s amazing how you always find excuses not to help out around the house,” she shot back. “In the last hour, I’ve watched you use that little divot thingamabob six times, pick up four broken tees, rake three sand traps, and put away your clubs after every shot. And you haven’t complained once.”
Crisis averted, I thought. I’m a pro at resolving domestic squabbles over minor things like leaving dirty dishes in the sink or leaving the toilet seat up. A new designer purse or a fancy dress from one of those overpriced boutiques, and all would be forgiven.
Then came the other shoe.
“And for your information,” she continued, with a heavy dose of contempt. “That girl back there, the one you tipped $10 for a $3 beer? Don’t think for a second ‘they’ were real.”
Busted.
Bud Key is TeeTime Golf Pass’s Mid-Atlantic Director and a former magazine editor with decades of golf writing experience. Your Golf Bud is his ongoing column on the game, the people who play it, and everything in between.
