photo for patty's blog

I got really lucky in the spouse department.  Rebecca and I have been together 22 years.  And although I tease her that they’ve been the best 6 years of my life, all 22 have been wonderful.

Rebecca’s not athletic – au contraire.   Her favorite statement, which she says proudly, is “I don’t do anything with balls involved.”  In fact, she’s so non-athletic she’s like Einstein’s “antimatter”.  Antimatter isn’t the lack of matter, and it’s not a vacuum, it’s ANTI-matter.  Rebecca isn’t just not an athlete, she’s the ANTI-athlete.  Stand too close to her and you won’t be able to putt.

So what makes Rebecca the golfer’s perfect spouse?  Simply put, she considers my passion for golf to be a good thing.  I’ve heard other golfer’s spouses say “you’re addicted to golf” or “you’re obsessed with golf”. Ouch.  One is addicted to drugs, one is obsessed with a foot fetish.  With golf, “love” and “passion” are the correct words and Rebecca gets it.

Now I’m not saying I can’t be a jerk when it comes to golf.   When we had been dating for about 5 months and both knew it was getting serious, we starting discussing next steps.    While neither one of us can remember the entire conversation, we both remember that I said (yes, I really said this) “Well, let’s get through a golf season first.”

I know, I know, I’m a dork!   But in my defense, I had just dated someone who, after only 3 dates, called to ask me to take a vacation day to go to the beach with her.  I told her that I liked to save my vacation days for golf.  She was shocked:  “You’d rather golf than go to the beach with me?”   I was still fumbling for a response when I heard the click.

But with Rebecca, I don’t have to temper my love for golf, in fact, I can even joke about it.   When we were discussing moving to Pennsylvania for her career (making me “have to” retire), I said to her as dead-panned as I could, “Well, here’s how I see the situation:  one of us has to work, one of us has to golf…. let’s go with our strengths.”

And if that’s not chutzpah enough, last week we were stuck in a huge traffic jam on our way to the airport.  Really frustrated, Rebecca said, “If we were super-rich, we could just take a helicopter to the airport.”  I quickly responded, “Hey, I shot an 81 this morning, I’m doing my part”.

I guess she’s not only the greatest “golfer’s spouse” she’s the greatest “dork’s spouse”, too.