Friday evening I busted out the back door of my office and headed straight to the golf course for a celebratory it’s-the-weekend! 9-holes. After I paid my greens fees, I turned around to gaze upward into the eyes of a smiling, tall, attractive, gentlemanly-looking twenty-something who had found his way into line right behind me; and thus my planned solo round turned into a party for two.
I was pretty excited; this was clearly my cowboy knight who had searched for me high and wide and had come to sweep me away on his white horse to our castle in the hills with prancing ponies and our own private golf course – yes, I was sure of it!
At first, he was quite the courteous companion. He opened doors; he let me tee off first; he graciously admired my beautiful drive even though his was terrible; he extended great appreciation when I located his shanked tee-shot; after a great recovery shot he told me I was clearly his lucky charm; he even offered me his last beer -- now THAT'S what I call chivalry! I was obviously impressed. Next, he started opening up to me about life as a kid, his hopes and dreams. And then, in mid-sentence about his childhood, the firestorm of F-bombs started dropping like second-chance balls next to a lateral water hazard.
When – I beg for an answer – when did it become acceptable to use such crude and offensive language around strangers? around ladies wearing Nantucket-red golf skirts with ribbons in their hair? in public at all? I jokingly made some comment about his choice of words, to which he responded, “Well, you have no idea how @%*#$<-up my childhood was.” He then proceeded to be quite arrogant, and rode his high horse for the next five holes as if I could never understand the pain he had endured.
Well, sir, maybe I can’t. But regardless, I assure you I don’t care to hear anymore about it if it’s going to be told with language like that!
Maybe he was just verbally expressing his frustration of not being able to keep up with my consistent and stellar 230-yard drives in the fairways. Maybe he really was the sad product of a very dysfunctional childhood. I don’t really know what his deal was, but by hole number four, I knew that cowboy had already ridden himself long gone from my fairy tale.
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Indeed, there's are few faster ways for a girl I thought was cute to become completely repulsive than to start spewing forth crude, vulgar, and classless language. I remember a time going into a ShopKo when I was in grade school and hearing a rather large lady on the phone with a colorful rainbow of phrases expressing her attitude to the person on the other end of the phone. It turned out all of this was in front of her 5-8 year old son... and the person on the phone was her mother...
ReplyDeleteWhen we left the store my response was to ask my mother "What's wrong with that lady?"
Thats #$@*&% lame!
ReplyDeleteOh, Annie! I can totally picture you in your little golfer attire with the ribbon in your hair. He may as well just have spit and grabbed himself. Ugh. :) Good job with finishing your game, even with such an ugly-acting partner.
ReplyDeleteSuch a bummer. :( But I love your blog- I thought I was the only person left in the world with one! Kathleen
ReplyDeleteWhat is even worse than that is when the genders are reversed! Some of you ladies can really lay down the vulgarity and it never ceases to amaze me, or turn me WAAAYYY off.
ReplyDeleteIn my own pursuits in love, I look for someone who inspires me. Nothing about this guys way or his story was inspiring or uplifting. I am very jealous at how many comments you have received on this post.
ReplyDelete