It was the height of COVID. We were trying to figure out Zoom meetings and DoorDash and online grocery shopping. I’d been laid off. The world was topsy-turvy. Stress levels were off the charts. 

My husband decided we weren’t fighting enough, so he thought he’d teach me to play golf. 

I was young and naive and thought it would give us a break from the COVID lockdowns and Netflix binging. But two years later, it’s become the most infuriating part of my life. A sport with an uppity dress code should have been the first clue.

We got to the golf arena and rented a cart, which is really the only reason to golf. Tom gave me the scorecard like I understood “par” or colors or numbers. We drove to the starting line and he proceeded to give me my first golf lesson.

“What club are you going to use?” he asked.

“How should I know? Sandwich? Soda? Strip?”

Tom swore, handed me a club and instructed, “Widen your stance, get closer to the ball, shoulders up, head down, knees together, thumbs out, straighten the arms but bend the elbows. Twist, but don’t move your hips. Watch the ball. Watch the ball!”

After getting me in peak form, I took a swing. I totally missed the ball and sprained several unused muscles in my back.

“You’re pulling up,” he said, unhelpfully.

“Pulling up what?”

“Just pulling up.”

“I don’t understand the words you’re using,” I replied. I considered throwing a ball at his head.

“You know, just don’t pull up.”

I glanced around the course, certain a divorce lawyer had to be within range. 

“Watch,” he said. “This is what you’re doing.”

Tom then proceeded to reenact my swing, which, according to him, looks like I’m trying to kill a spider with a baseball bat. 

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Understand?”

“Do you understand alimony?” I mumbled. 

It’s gone downhill from there, but at least now I’ve learned golf etiquette, like how driving the cart through those fun sand dunes is frowned upon. And I should whisper on the golf field unless I miss a shot, and then I’m supposed to yell a swear word and throw my golf bat in the lake. 

I also learned I shouldn’t shout “Fore!” every time I take a swing, and kicking the ball onto the fairway is a cool golf-pro trick. And the drink cart is like an ice-cream truck for grown-ups. 

After watching Tom’s conniption when he hit a ball into the creek, I asked him, “You do this to relax? Is it working?”

He gritted his teeth and drove to the next hole. I sat back and watched the beautiful scenery. I’ve seen deer, squirrels, ducks and bunnies romping near the “greens,” which is a lazy name if I’ve ever heard one. 

Maybe during the next pandemic, Tom can teach me how to pole vault or we could join a curling team or maybe we could do a DIY extension to our house. There are just so many ways to start a fight. 

Peri Kinder is an award-winning humor writer and hosts the Life & Laughter podcast and was voted Best of State for 2022. She’s also a yoga/meditation instructor and life coach. λ