Can't Touch This

So last Friday, Debbie Harry and I hit the links. We were paired up with an OMG who I actually played with once before. I recognized his pale bare legs, saggy black socks, knee brace, and tan cap bearing the logo of the financial services company he worked for. He recognized me, also. The last time we played, I remember him asking me if I worked, and when I said I did, he didn’t have much more to say to me. I guess if a woman works, it means her husband isn't rich enough to be schmooze-worthy as a client.

Anyway, the OMG seemed cheerful enough this time, realizing that the inevitable replay with a stranger would happen in Small-timore County. A fourth person joined us, a quiet guy from New Jersey in town for a conference. He teed off from the blues, and OMG, who teed off from much shorter yellow tees was on his best behavior. Then the Jersey guy had to leave early, and that’s when OMG started touching our balls.

The first time, Debbie Harry was the victim. She hit a putt and it looked like it was rolling fast past the hole, so the OMG stuck his foot out to stop it. Now the rules of golf say that if you accidentally deflect or stop an opponent’s ball, there is no penalty, but it’s a whole different matter if you do it on purpose. In that case, the perpetrator incurs a two-stroke penalty, loses a hole in match play, or even gets disqualified. Not that we were in competition, but it’s always good practice to play as if you are. Just like it’s always good practice to have your seat belt on just in case you’re in an accident.

Anyway, Debbie Harry was polite about it and just smiled the way you’d smile at your pervy old grandpa if he tried to grab your ass. But I stared aghast at the OMG as if he had just picked his nose in front of us. Not that he noticed because a few holes later, when my ball rolled into a shallow divot, he went right over, picked it up, and tossed it a few feet away into a greener piece of fairway. I made a joke about it, saying, “Hmmm, looks like my ball was moved by an outside agency. Guess I’ll have to play it as it lies.” But secretly I was pretty annoyed.   

I don’t know what it’s like for men to play alone with other men, but somehow when women are around, all the usual rules seem to go out the window and we lose the right to play the ball as it lies. Perhaps OMG wanted us to speed up our play, or perhaps he thought he was making it “easier” on us. But making golf easier to play is beside the point. It's like making a Rubik’s cube with the same color on all sides.  

So for all the well-meaning OMGs out there, here’s some advice: Before you touch a woman’s ball, stop and ask yourself, would you touch another man’s ball? At the very least, please ask permission first.