Golf Wives Matter

Memorial Day has come and gone. Long considered the unofficial start of summer, it is once again acceptable — and fashionista‑sanctioned — to wear white.

After months in sweats and cozy sweaters, the mere thought of slipping into breezy, light‑colored linen is enough to make a woman dance like no one’s watching. But in our house, the real source of excitement comes in a different milky hue.

While this is the time of year when women might focus on sprucing up our summer wardrobes or planting a fresh burst of color in the garden, men’s thoughts turn almost exclusively to their favorite preoccupation in the entire world.

Yes, they are obsessed with their balls. White, colored, striped, or stamped with a distinctive logo — it’s an obsession that simply cannot, and will not, be quelled.

We’re talking, of course, about that four‑letter word: GOLF.

Enough scanning the skyline for snow. Enough checking wind speeds and chill factors.

Warm weather has finally arrived, and the excitement to drive off that first tee rivals the boyhood glee of the last day of school.

In our house, the mere mention of playing a round trumps just about anything else. Hubby’s preoccupation is so profound that, while his less‑than‑optimal hearing may miss many of my comments or requests, the ding of a text from one of his buddies announcing an open tee time garners his immediate attention — along with a frantic plea to help him find his golf shoes.

“See you, hon! Jim made us a tee time in 10 minutes. I gotta run. You don’t mind, right? I’ll be home by 6. Bye!”

And just like that, he’s out the door with a quick brush of lips on my cheek and a wave. I haven’t seen him move that fast since the course opened unexpectedly in mid‑February during an unseasonable warm spell.

With the house suddenly quiet, I found myself with mixed emotions. On one hand, I love seeing hubby’s excitement and the spring in his step as he pursues his passion.

On the other hand, I must admit to feeling a teensy bit neglected. Yes, I’ll have a few hours to myself while he’s off on his playdate with the boys. But what about me? Am I not just as important — or at least almost as important — as his golf game?

Then it dawned on me: I’m not alone. Each of these men has a wife who most likely feels the same way. So why not commiserate?

Faster than you can type “new outdoor cushions” into the Google search bar, I sent a text to my fellow golf widows:

“Wine is chilling and we have four hours to ourselves. Come over. Much to discuss.”

Within twenty minutes, the four of us were comfortably settled on the patio with glasses of our favorite chardonnay. It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to our boys and their predilection for dropping everything in favor of smacking a small round object toward a 4¼‑inch hole.

“Does anyone else feel a little neglected?” asked Suzy.“Duh, yeah!” The rest of us chimed in. We had tried everything to get our hubbies’ attention, but nothing worked. We’d arranged romantic weekend getaways — but the hotel had to be on or near a golf course. Dinner dates? Only after they’d finished 18 holes, and usually at the club restaurant where the Golf Channel blared nonstop on the big screen.

The lure of the greens was becoming a full‑blown siren’s call, and we were not okay with that. But what to do?

We pondered our plight for a moment, and then a lightbulb practically flickered above Chris’s head.

“I’ve got it, gals. I’ve GOT it!” We leaned in.

“There’s no fighting this obsession with golf… so let’s fight fire with fire. If you can’t beat ’em, let’s join ’em.”

Her strategy was brilliant:

We’d all take golf lessons, become proficient, and eventually play a few rounds. We’d form our own foursome and, as we improved, challenge the men to a mini‑tournament.

The long‑term goal? Beat them at their own game.

We loved it. Suddenly, we no longer felt neglected — we felt energized. This was something positive we could do to change things and get noticed.

The Pro Shop was called. Lessons were arranged. And, naturally, a shopping trip was scheduled so we could be properly outfitted in stylish golf attire. All we needed now was a name for our group.

“How about Golf Wives Matter?” suggested Lisa.

Another lightbulb moment.

Chris immediately offered to design a “Golf Wives Matter” logo and order personalized shirts emblazoned with it. She even ordered little ball markers for the men etched with “I love you more than I love golf” with a tiny little heart.

They may be obsessed with their balls — that’s not changing.

But now we’ve got clubs, lessons, matching shirts, and a mission.

Game on, boys.

Because Golf Wives Matter — and we’re coming for the leaderboard.