How a golf slut became a golf bride

image of happy golfing couple

From a round at Sharp Park to a wedding at City Hall.

A FUNNY THING happened when I, the golf slut, was looking for someone to play golf with for the rest of my life. I met a good man who wants to play golf with me for the rest of his life, and so it seems natural and inevitable that all of a sudden a golf slut would become a golf bride.

I’d say it is THE sequel to the book “Confessions of a Golf Slut,” except that I have come to believe that every chapter and every story in life leads to many sequels. It’s just that none could compare to this one in terms of fairy tales.

“Confessions of a Golf Slut” is a fictionalized memoir of my life in golf. And when I say “fictionalized,” I mean that I created a character based on me. The things that happened to her happened to me. I just reordered some chronology for the sake of the story, and I altered some details to protect some identities. I did not necessarily think or feel the way she did, although in some cases I wished I had.

And, readers, I did have a life outside of golf. Golf was the thread and the lens for the memoir, and so even if a story was important, if it had no link to golf it did not make it into the book.

But if you read the book, you knew there would be more stories to be told. Especially after the author and one brave soul told their stories of their long December first date of golf in the spring issue of GottaGoGolf Magazine. We were writers who had met online because of our love of golf, and after he had gone back to his cold-weather state that December, we agreed to write our own stories without trading notes or sharing them until we both were finished.

He finished first and probably still cannot believe I did not read his until I finished mine. I didn’t!

Here they are in case you missed them: His story. Her story.

THE NEXT CHAPTER OF THEIR STORY

On New Year’s Eve I flew to Colorado to spend two-and-a-half weeks with him in the cold and snow. There was NO golf, which allowed us to get to know each other indoors, over home-cooked meals and NFL playoff games. This is when I met some of his friends. He had a cocktail party for them to meet me, a gesture that touched me.

When I left, we had agreed that he would come back to California about two-and-a-half weeks later. And there was good golf, and he began to meet my friends and to play golf with them.

Then we concocted a crazy scheme that we now call the Big Hook, as much for the shape of the journey as for the result, for by the end we were both hooked and planning a future together.

It started with my usual visit to Arizona for spring training. There, I planned to attend the WARM conference of the Women’s Golf Alliance. He drove from Denver to meet me there. We stayed a few nights at the resort, a few nights with friends, playing golf at Papago, and Talking Stick North. He had injured his foot doing pushups (getting in shape for his middle-aged lady) but was a trooper all the way, not saying no to any of the golf.

Then we headed west, visiting two golf resorts along the way, to the St. Regis Monarch Beach (with a fabulously conditioned golf course awaiting us) and to Omni La Costa (with two golf courses and a lively weekend crowd in store).

Next we headed back to Northern California, where we would spend another two-and-a-half weeks before moving in together for the rest of the year — first at his place for the spring, then at mine for summer, then at his for fall, and finally back to mine in November.

THE PLOT THICKENS

Image of Pole Creek Golf Club

The view at Pole Creek Golf Club.

By then we were engaged. He proposed on the final hole of our quiet Monday round at Pole Creek Golf Club. I had noticed that he had struggled all day on the unusually fast greens, making three-putts instead of his usual ones. Pole Creek has three nines, and I knew this was his favorite, with a finishing hole towering over an expansive view of the Continental Divide.

I was babbling about the gorgeous scenery, the magnificent house behind the tee, blah blah blah.

“I think you should come over and see the view from here,” he said from his lofty blue tees. When he asked if I would walk the fairway of life with him, I assured him I would be there in the bunkers and rough too. We knew the golf gods gave their blessing when he one-putted the hole for a birdie, and the clubhouse even had bubbly chilled for us.

THE PRELUDE TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

We admit to being in our 50s and believing we know who we are, which has made it easy to recognize and surrender to our love for each other. Neither of us had children of our own, and we are delighting in friendship with a couple in their late 20s and with a nephew in his 20s. We love to play golf together, alone or with others, and we maintain our own circles — his buddies at South Suburban in Centennial, Colorado, and my buddies at Sharp Park in Pacifica, California.

Image of newlywedsWe love to watch “Jeopardy,” to play Scrabble, to talk. We have even collaborated on the business of Blue Coast Media Group, and are working in upstairs-downstairs style at home.

Home, by the way, will soon change as we make our way back to Colorado for at least the near future. Then we’ll be settling somewhere in the U.S. where good living is affordable, fun golf is plentiful and abundant sunshine is not too terribly hot.

We eloped on January 28 at San Francisco City Hall, and celebrated with friends and family on Valentine’s Day. At Sharp Park, of course, the scene of our first golf date.

But, surely, not our last.

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