Fore Play.

June 4, 2012

Fore Play.

I am typing this with a blistered left hand.  And I love it.

I am reminded with each little twinge of pain that I actually can and do still enjoy new experiences in life.  Like golfing with my husband, which I did for the first time today.  I’ve golfed before, just not with him.  I hadn’t swung a club in years and in the past I wasn’t much good and had no motivation to be good as I didn’t like my golf partner at the time.  Therefore I had no equipment.  Read: no glove.  Hence the hand. I had no equipment and my husband had no equipment because even though he enjoys the sport and has friends who enjoy the sport and would like to enjoy it with him…I haven’t exactly encouraged it.  At all.  Which is really too bad becasue he’s actually pretty good.  I’ve known this and I’ve heard this from buddies of his when they return from a best-ball or a corporate outing.  He is a hockey guy and he wields his driver like he’s taking a shot from the blue line in the Stanley Cup finals. Despite the knowing, I never appreciated it.  At all.

I had no valid reason.  I had several reasons/justifications/excuses that were utter crap and rooted in very old baggage that I had thought I’d left behind me.  I hadn’t.  I actually like the game.  I watch it, I know who the players are and I happily engage in conversation regarding it.  I appreciate people who play.  I remember having enjoyed it before.  A couple of months ago as my dear spouse was lamenting that he really, really needed clubs in order to continue joining his friends (apparently renting regularly is frowned upon) and bemoaning how awful it was that his had been ruined (long story; I didn’t do it) I actually started listening to him.  Now, we’ve had this talk before.  Rather, he’s complained and I’ve dismissed it as unnecessary and an expense not needed and how he didn’t have time for it anyway and, and and…always an and.  He, being a pretty great guy, understood that I was for whatever reason not down with him engaging in this particular activity.  He respected that and didn’t press the issue.  That’s actually pretty cool of him, and pretty crappy of me.  I listened, I got it, and I started thinking hard about how to correct it.  Yesterday, I stopped thinking and just did something instead.

I bought him clubs. Good ones. I brought him to a great course right down the street from us and made a tee time for this morning. I asked which friend he wanted to call.  He said me.  Did you catch that? He said me.

So today, in a highly unattractive outfit (I don’t didn’t golf and therefore don’t have much golf clothing to choose from) we arrived and rented a set of ladies clubs which were placed in the cart right by his lovely new Octanes and Burners.  The first hole didn’t go well.  At all.  I hadn’t even swung a club in literally years.  Looking back, the driving range may have been a wise move, but we were already out.  The gentleman at the first tee was kind and understanding and reassured me there were no other groups for another 30 minutes.  Thank God. I cringed and apologized profusely to my husband as I took swing after pitiful swing.  He just smiled and told me to relax.  He said he was just glad to be with me…sweet, but certainly not true.  What man wants to be out on a course being forced to watch such a thing? By the second hole, this great guy I married had gently and sweetly encouraged me to actually hit the ball with some force.  By the third with a touch of accuracy, this as he stood behind me and corrected my grip…if you’ve never had the man you love correct your stance and grip…well, you’re missing out.  Fifty Shades has nothing on a quiet and beautiful course with a husband dressed in an ice blue Nike golf shirt behind you, hands on your hips turning you while nuzzling your neck and whispering to you to grasp the..well..you get the drift.  By hole four I eagled.  We laughed, we joked, we flirted, we found the drink cart, we had an absolute blast.  And as we neared the end of our round, he asked me if I’d be willing to  go on couples night at some neighborhood courses.  Like as in a date.  He then smiled and blasted a ball 300 yards.  Swoon.

It was and as I type is our anniversary.  Today was not only fun, sexy and smart…it was enlightening.  I always say that there are a million reasons I love him…but today there are a million and one.  He reminded me that I can be fun.  That I can try new things.  He reminded me how much I love doing things with him and how great we are together away from the ever-present demands of children, careers and life.  He gave me something awesome on this seventh year of marriage…aside from his glove around the ninth hole…he took off that very last layer of hesitation that he would ever make me feel the way I had before…he never would.  He never will.  He encourages and he uplifts and I needed to see that again.  To be reminded of why we are who we are and do what we do.  Why even when he acts like a monumental ass…and anyone who is married has thought their spouse is a monumental ass at one time or another so don’t judge…I adore him.  Because the ass isn’t him…this guy, this great guy that asked me out today…the guy with the wicked swing and the shit-eating grin when I bend over to set my tee…this is the guy I married.  And that fun, happy, relaxed and determined chick on the course today who made out with her husband behind a tree?  She’s here to tell the angry, tired and occasionally even bitter woman who was forgetting herself under the weight of a mid-thirties life to get lost.  I’m back.  We’re back.  I love this.

FYI: I will be at the driving range.  Often.  Despite his sweetness, I’m competitive as Hell and I’ll never shoot that high again so help me God.

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