MY RELATIONSHIP WITH GOLF

I have a love hate relationship with golf.  Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it.  I know it is meant to be relaxing and social but really, following a little white ball around a large expanse of jungle sometimes becomes a little frustrating.  Don’t get me wrong, I do understand how lucky I am to have a gorgeous 18 hole golf course that is free for me to use when I please.  It is surrounded by jungle and often monkeys can be found at holes 3 and 7.  We have very capable caddies who can find a ball which has flown off erratically into the jungle.   These caddies drag the golf bags up and down the hills of the course with no apparent effort at all.  I know you are all thinking that it does indeed sound like paradise for a golfer, but that is not the case.  The average temperature here is  30+ degrees with at least 95% humidity.  Add to this the sun beating down and you can imagine how hot and sweaty things can get.  Hitting a ball around a golf course isn’t sounding so appealing is it now.   

Many of you know there are not many expat woman left here (5 to be exact) so on the golf course I am usually surrounded by testosterone filled blokes.  The competitive edge takes them over and there is no longer casual golf but a desire to kick the other golfer’s arses.  My golf is hmmmmm how should I put it – shameful.  Yep, I try my best but that damn little white ball and my clubs tend to try to avoid each other.  On the occasions that my clubs do indeed hit the ball I am pretty damn good and yes there have been occasions when I myself have kicked some golfing arse.  However, the majority of the time I am a hot, sticky mess and would rather be at the pool bar than battling on at hole number 9. 

Having a husband that is a natural athlete and a very good golfer adds to the pressure for me to perform at this insane sport.  Directions are shouted down the green on how to hold my head, bend my knees and straighten my elbows.  I am sure this information would be very helpful if I actually cared.  It’s not that I don’t need the help (I most certainly do) but by this stage of the game I am often too hot to even care where my hands should be placed.  I have never had a hissy fit on the green as I have seen several of the boys do, never thrown a club (tempted but no) and never given up halfway round and gone home.  I will admit that I have indeed thought about wrapping my club around someone’s head, taking a dip in the pond and hijacking a golf buggy to take me back to the pool bar.  Golf and I will never be close friends.  I will however, continue to persevere with the relationship but deep down I know it’s going to end in tears.