First of all, addressing the issue of "female golfers" is somewhat dangerous. Not as dangerous, as say, flatulating in a Zippo factory, but quite perilous nonetheless. Considering the fact that I married one (a female), by writing on this topic I'm not doing much to increase my chances of winning the "Husband Who Gets The Most 'Action' In One Year" award either. However, when you consider the fact that females make up 20% of the golfing public - and 99% of the golfers at "The All Women's Golf Club" in Canada - it is a topic that needs to be probed (I'm not sure, but I think I could have used a better word there).
Incidentally, the reason the total isn't 100% at "The All Women's Golf Club" is that a guy named Roger, who was later seen trying to escape in a linen truck, was awarded a one-round membership. This was only awarded after Roger promised to give every woman at the club a four hour neck massage and vowed that he would tell each of them that, in no certain terms, were they remotely close to looking fat.
What I find mildly entertaining is that many women don't even enjoy the game of golf. This is not the case with guys. Even when guys throw clubs and/or torture themselves after a bad shot, it is not, contrary to what it looks like, an indication that they are not enjoying themselves. It may not be a sign that they are happier than a pig in, say, three meters of poop, but I guarantee you, if it was between going to a nice café for tea or shooting 157 with forty-two lost balls, it would be golf every time. You see, all guys, even the ones who look like they are ready to self-combust, cannot help but thoroughly enjoy a game that involves driving a motorized vehicle, drinking, and swatting at things.
For most women, playing golf is enjoyable only because of the socializing. This can become a serious problem. In fact, at my club I think there are a couple of female foursomes who tee off, but don't actually play. They pretend they are golfing, but it's just a disguise for the real reason they are there, which is to talk about things like cookware and Tim McGraw and placenta.
Then there is the inevitable fashion show that happens on the first tee. And guaranteed, if it wasn't for the multi-purpose nature of the placenta, women would spend at least sixteen out of eighteen holes talking about their clothes. For instance, most women would be more excited showing up to the club with a cute little pinstripe outfit than, say, finding a cure for bone cancer. I recently received confirmation as to the severity of this problem when I bumped into my friend Trevor (hacker) last week. He mentioned that his wife Cori, a golfer, came home from the club one day and said "Hi honey, guess what? I went to the fashion show and a golf game broke out."
The other thing I've noticed about women golfers is their fickleness when it comes to playing in inclement weather. I simply won't take my wife golfing if the weather isn't absolutely perfect. I'll watch the forecast in the morning and if the weatherman says, "It'll be a beautiful day today with a wonderful high of 82 degrees," I'll mutter "Rats, missed it by one degree." (My wife's outside operating temperature is 81 degrees Fahrenheit). On the other hand, as long as the barometric pressure is somewhere between one and twenty million, guys will be out there whacking at it.
Understandably, because it's such a great game and many of them haven't seen their husbands in fourteen years, many women become "female golfers." As discussed, female golfers are interesting "athletes." Now if you'll excuse me, I need to show this to my wife to see if I'm still eligible to "get any" for the rest of the year. I've got my fingers crossed.
Andrew Penner is a freelance writer and photographer based in Calgary, Alberta. His work has appeared in newspapers and magazines throughout North America and Europe. You can see more of his work at www.andrewpenner.com.
We all love golf course rankings, but there's quite a bias involved, huh? Host a major championship and you're basically guaranteed a spot on the list. What about the average duffer who's more impressed with the beer list than the slope/rating - or prefers friendliness over the fine, imported lotion in the locker room? Where's our list, hackers? Answer: Right here.
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