Fore!

I experienced my first run-in with golf this weekend.

I will exclude my attempt at the driving range from my list of "run-ins," seeing as though one is actually supposed to make contact with the golf ball when swinging a driver. And when contact is made, said ball is supposed to propel forward, not sideways. Or backward.

The Fiance competed in a three-day golf tournament this weekend, and I accompanied as moral support. Of course by "moral," I mean "not much help," and by "support," I mean "at all," but it was surely the thought that counted.

You see, golf is something I highly misunderstood. What do you mean driver? A nine iron is what? And why? You mean to tell me you don't golf with the same putters found at mini-golf locations across the globe? And fore! Well, nobody really yells that in real life.

Golf is also something I never realized was a spectator sport. I'm still not convinced it is, but I enjoyed myself. In between remaining oh-so-quiet, not moving a muscle and holding my breath, all to assure no golfer is distracted, I watched the same men continuously whack golf balls across the course, and found myself mildly fascinated.

Take The Fiance, for example. He's highly entertaining to watch, you know, given his charming good looks and adorable, little putting stance, ahem, sorry - what was I saying? Ah, yes. Well, he's quite good. And he taught me things. Like par. And bogey. And birdie. Double bogey. Penalties. Wedges. Golf etiquette, which I learned first-hand: There is no loud talking, no moving, clapping, loud noises of any kind, while a man is holding his driver. Er, putter? Iron? Whatever. Mostly just shut the Hell up when the man is about to hit the ball.

I began the weekend knowing very little about The Fiance's Great Love (which, by the way, is GOLF, not yours truly, but I forgive him), but I left knowing a great deal. I feel just a bit closer to His World, and that is rather satisfying. I'm not sure I was much help, and I learned double-bogeys make him angry, but I felt special following him around in a golf cart, keeping absolutely silent for fear of retribution from God, himself.

I dare say it was a bonding experience. And next year? I'll take lessons. And within five years, we'll be famous, traveling the world. With our nine irons.