I held my first golf club when I was 6. It was an antique wooden club that had belonged to my grandmother, and I carried it with pride to my first golf lesson. Golf was pretty much an expectation in my family--my grandparents had taught both of my brothers how to play, and just because I was a girl didn't mean I was off the hook. I took golf lessons for three summers and even won a tournament. But once adolescence kicked in and I became preoccupied with attempting to be cool, golf fell off the radar screen. Until yesterday.
Mr. Graphic Designer contacted me via OkCupid, responding to the part of my profile that refers to how I like nerds (I've since edited that section) and how he could kick my ass at Scrabble. "You probably could because I've never played Scrabble," I responded. I know, what kind of person hasn't played Scrabble? This kind of person. Growing up with athletic brothers I was always playing sports, not board or card games. But, Mr. Graphic Designer also had an affinity for golf, and when I told him that I actually like watching golf on TV (I attribute this to being subjected to countless hours of golf broadcasts on our single TV), he could barely contain himself.
He invited me out for drinks, but I said, "Hey, let's go to the driving range." Again, an awesome response--and one I really was genuine about. I'd rather go do something for a first date anyway. We made plans to meet at the East Potomac Park driving range. He'd let me borrow his clubs--a very kind gesture seeing as how freaking expensive golf clubs are and I haven't played in 15+ years.
So, as I was getting ready for my golf date, I was actually talking to another guy (Dr. Scientist, not to be confused with Dr. Nutrition) and awkwardly trying to pretend like this date was with a friend. "What are you going to wear to play?" he asked. I said, "Um...I dunno, some khakis and a collared shirt?" He said, "You're going to be drenched in about five minutes." And he was just about right--except that it really only took two minutes before I had sweat through my clothes. Damn this return of 90+ degree weather.
Backing up, Mr. Graphic Designer--a really nice guy, definitely nerdy, not really my type. I knew it pretty much right away, and thus I felt not even a slight sense of nervousness about the whole date. In my limited experience, a good date comes with at least a few nerves because there's some excitement about where it might go. Sadly, there were no such feelings about this one, but I was still pumped to play.
As far as the golf goes, it's sort of like riding a bike, but I am definitely out of practice. I was splicing,, hooking, and whiffing more often than I'd like to admit. But just about every fifth swing (usually when Mr. Graphic Designer wasn't looking, of course) I nailed it--and my ball would sail into the air. It's an awesome feeling when you do something like that right. The other times, it's frustrating as hell. Mr. Graphic Designer did try to give me a few pointers, and I let him since it seems like guys like to do that. A few of his tips actually worked.
Even though it was in the middle of the afternoon, we ended up going out to lunch afterward...and that's when things got a little awkward. We sort of ran out of things to talk about once the food came, but we both toughed it out. He drove me back to my car and invited me up to his apartment to, uh, "look at his art." I said, "Um, actually...I should probably...um...go." He seemed a little disappointed, but understood.
We hugged good-bye and I said something like, "Let's hit the driving range again." But I have a feeling that might be the last time he lets me use his clubs.