I'd be offended if my friends' husbands didn't have one too: A Mistress in the form of a Golf club. But honestly, Golf has made me, and my friends, like a widow to such extent we've created the "Golfers' Widows Club".
If you are remotely related to a person who golfs, you know exactly what I'm referring to and there is nothing funny about it. At every opportunity, my husband Sam is lurking around the garage, hoping I'll leave the house so he can too - to get "a hole in here, a hole in there..." the opportunities are endless - believe me he pursues every one of them.
It's gotten to the point where I no longer announce I'm taking a bath, because I know when I get out he'll be at the course or the driving range. The concern is well-founded.
While giving our kids a bath a few years ago, I slipped and broke my foot. The kids went to tell Daddy, who was nowhere to be found, so they ran out (NAKED) to tell neighbors who found me sprawled in my college sweatsuit on the bathroom floor with my ankle bone protruding from my shin. Sam had to be pulled fr the course where no phones are allowed.
For his birthday this year, I gave Sam & his friends 36 holes at their fave local course. Sam left 2 hrs before the first hole, running over our family cat in the process-ME-OWW.
While his joy has incited agony, I must admit despite it all GOLF has given our marriage depth and dimension, making our marriage viable, even enviable, among our friends. For that, I'm grateful.
“His Bumper Sticker: 'Stops at the sight of 18-holes or 9'”