The cat is out of the bag.
Since everyone else is telling their tales about their transgression with Tiger, I thought I should share mine.
It was not too long ago and I had just recently taken up golf because I heard it could be really relaxing.
I found I had a thing for golfers. I couldn’t resist them, they were hot.
Not only are the golfers hot but lets face it golf is a sexy sport. What other sport is there where men wash their balls in public? Every where I went some guy was washing his balls, talking about his balls, looking for his balls and hitting his balls. I’m only human, I couldn’t resist.
I started small, a caddy here and there, but eventually they weren’t man enough for me and I moved on to bigger and better courses with more ball washers.
The PGA tour was taking place here and I had managed to score a ticket from a friend who believed, like most people do, that golf was better watched from the couch. Golf is a challenging sport for all involved but for the fans particularly. Fans are forced to stand behind a thin rope and whisper for hours moving with the golfers on the course but unable to speak. They are a hardy bunch no doubt, they stand there in the hot sun, rain, wind and will even sacrifice themselves to the lightning gods so the pros stay safe.
I didn’t have that kind of dedication to the sport but liked to play an occasional nine holes.
I was pretty good too. I had mastered the windmill and was working on my elephant trunk swing.
But I have gotten off course.
On the 7th hole of the tournament our eyes met. He gave me that wink and smile that said “meet me in the clubhouse after I win and I will show you how I wash my balls”.
I was so there.
I grabbed a cocktail and waited in the clubhouse. After all the other fans had left I had Tiger all to myself. We talked a bit, about his game, about his endorsements, about his game some more and then after he woke me up from all the stimulating talk we drove back to his hotel.
I won’t go into gritty details but let’s just say he scored another hole in one.
Afterward we talked more about his game and endorsements. I gave him my number but knew I was just a one time thing for him. I wasn’t his typical golfing groupie. I used big words and hadn’t flipped my hair in ages. I could be discrete, but I wasn’t willing to change my voice mail recording for him.
I didn’t mind that he was seeing other women, he’s a sports legend, it comes with the territory. I did mind that he always wore the same red shirt every day. I need variety in my life. I tried to convince him to wear a blue shirt or possibly a green one but he would have none of it.
Alas we were not meant to be.
In retrospect I am glad it didn’t work out. Who knew he was such an idiot? I certainly didn’t. On the golf course he is in complete control but in real life he hasn’t a clue. I had no idea there were so many other women that he had taken up with. I didn’t realize that he liked women who were looking to become celebutards. I didn’t realize that he was dumb enough to believe that his transgressions would never get out.
As for his wife, I don’t think she hit him with the golf club because she was mad at him for his transgressions, I think she was trying to knock some sense into him. He may be worth $500 million but he is dumb as a post.