The Real Battle of the Sexes

“Who the heck do they think they are?”  I was seeing red!  My outburst might be heard all the way to the clubhouse, but I didn’t care - I had reached my limit.

The morning had begun calmly enough; my golf partner Jill and I had teed off early and, so far, were having a great round.  We’d both parred the last hole and were driving the cart to the next tee, when a foursome of men zoomed past us in their golf carts, like they were at the Indy Speedway. We were on a narrow cart path, meant for a single cart at a time; they nearly knocked us over in their determination to pass and jump ahead of us to the next tee. 

No slowing down and asking to pass, no tip of the hat, no “good morning,” no “hi ladies.” Obviously, no realization that their behavior was dangerous and rude. 

“Aren’t they the same guys that were ogling us on the driving range earlier?”  I asked my friend.   “You know, I think they are” she confirmed.   “Well, we are sporting the latest in golf fashion and looking pretty darned good, if I say so myself,” I laughed.

Oh, how we wanted to give these “gentlemen” the benefit of the doubt.  Perhaps, in their zeal to get to the next hole, they simply weren’t paying attention.  But, based on their gruff behavior, it was more likely they were giving us the “evil eye” instead of an admiring one. 

Not willing to let them upset our game, we quickly regained our composure and continued to play.  A few holes later, we found ourselves opposite my own home on the 7th fairway.  As we rounded the bend to the tee box, I looked to see if my hubby was waiting to say hello as he so often did. His visit was usually accompanied by snacks and a kiss for good luck but this time he was nowhere in sight. 

Instead of my handsome better half, though, I was disconcerted to see a strange man in our yard.  It was a golfer from the group ahead of us.  His ball had apparently landed in our backyard.  He had climbed our fence and was clearly intending to play from the middle of our lawn. 

“Hey, what are you doing in our yard?” I yelled, catching him mid-swing. 

“I’m hitting my ball; can’t you see that?”  he retorted angrily.  “You nearly ruined my shot.”  My temper matched his at the flagrant disregard for the rules - and our property.

“You just leave that ball right where it is Mister!” I yelled loud enough for anyone on the driving range, some half mile away, to hear. 

“But it’s my ball” he insisted and, ignoring my warning, he smacked the round object right onto the fairway, climbed back over the fence and carried on playing.

“How rude!” I fumed.  “These guys apparently have no manners, let alone knowledge of the rules of play.” 

We played on, and all went well until we reached the restrooms mid-course.   Now, for the record, it is quite usual to have men use the women’s room and vice-versa in order to keep speed of play moving.  But on this particular day, the men ahead of us were not only rude on the golf course, but in the privy too.

We had already contended with these goons. From their dangerous golf cart maneuvers to the trespasser in my yard, they weren’t finished with their rude behavior.  Entering the Ladies’ room I found the ultimate insult to women.  Yes, you guessed it, the seat was left up on the toilet. 

Now, I know that these guys wanted to zip in, zip down, zip up and zip out. But this was the LADIES’ ROOM!  Is there no mindfulness or courtesy?  If men need to “borrow” the space, they should at least heed the sign on the door.  Thank goodness I had removed my sunglasses and looked before I sat down.  I could have had my very own “Ally McBeal” moment!  Hence the explosion at the beginning of this story.

“Ok, I’ve had my say,” I remarked to Jill as I began to calm down.  She wisely listened and commiserated.  “You know, you’re right. It’s not that hard to replace the toilet seat in the down position.  It simply takes a little consideration.  Maybe this is why women get so mad; maybe this is where the real battle of the sexes begins!”

Hmm, I mused; it’s possible she’s right.  Whether we share life or a golf course, men and women encounter many issues, large and small.  Certainly, women still battle too often for dignity, respect and equality. A starting place might be to solve something very basic, like seat up or seat down.  Maybe that’s what Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs really fought over in their “Battle of the Sexes” tennis match over fifty years ago.

© 2024  Annie Sokoloff