Secret Love Nest

Golf

Do you know the most boring thing in the world? At least for me.

No...watching a video of a sloth walking slowly is much more interesting than my answer.

It's golf.

I don't get golf. I just don't. Walking around in the grassy field, swinging those iron clubs and praying for that white ball to enter a hole in the ground is like torture for me.

But for some unknown reason that is beyond me, I let Qing dragged me to the club this early morning. Maybe there was something about that delicious braised pork we ate last night, it shortcircuited my brain enough for Qing to brainwash me to caddy for him while he played golf with his father, uncle, Wang Zhu Gege et al.

So here I am, watching the most boring game (at least for me), listening to the most mundane things from the players (business) with the most boring bunch of people I had misfortune to get mixed into (businessmen).

Yes...this will be painful. I think for everyone involved.

I mean, come on! Stocks, deficit, credit, shares, market, trends, profits...my eyes turn glassy literally the first one minute of listening to them. If I was not raised politely by my mother and grandmother, I will yawn. But that is rude so...

And don't let me get started on those golf club (ugh you guys let me started! Why?!)

So...golf club. What is wrong with them? Why are they so many? What happened to my innocent belief that there is only one kind of golf club. You know...when you draw a golf club, you draw a long stick with a spoon shape on the end. I don't know.

(Qing is giving side comments. He said I don't know golf and I can't draw to save my life. I told him "Shut up Qing!)

There, after the irrelevant side comments let's go back to that early morning in the greens.

I watch, bored out of my mind, as a business associates of the Wangs swung a club and let a golf ball fly. Every players clap so I had no choice but to clap too.

Me: (whispering to Qing who looked really fuckable in a black polo shirt, khaki shorts and golf shoes with a cool cap in his head) Why are we clapping?

Qing: (looked at me in surprise) You are clapping but you didn't know why?

Me: Ahhh...yes.

Qing: It was a nice shot.

Me: Ahhhh...okay.

Qing: (ruffling the top of my head) Try to keep up, love.

So I tried. Carrying that bulky golf bag of his. Listening to their mundane conversations about business. Clapping when they clap.

When it's Qing's turn to bat (yeah it's a baseball term, don't pressure me!) he held out his hand to me.

Qing: Driver.

Me: (totally clueless) No, you drive us here.

Qing: (frowning at me) Give me the driver club Dayu.