The Highest Love

Is there a kind of love that is willing to offer a ‘gimme’ when my ball’s 6 feet from the hole? Is there a kind of love that carefully manipulates every round to always have an exciting finish despite how badly I’m playing. Is there a kind of love that finds a deeper level of soul connection in the rhythmic rattling of our golf trolleys than in any candlelit dinner or anniversary celebration?

Look no further than Dave, the true North on my love compass. A man who understands my every need. A man with whom I can dare to be myself. You’d understand if you were with me on the 1st at Blundell’s and your breath’s taken away when the sun hits his face and he gives that knowing smile that the round is going to be about a lot more than just golf.

So here it is, officially: Eileen, you’re my wife and I love you but Dave you are the wind beneath my driver, the sand in my wedge, and the hole for my putter.

Eileen and Maria don’t get me wrong … you are two beautiful, talented, and wonderful ladies, but let’s be real: you are, at best, silver medalists. You might share our houses and surname, but you are second-best to the bond Dave and I share over a bucket of range balls.

Think of all those evenings we’ve spent together at the Maplewood. The wine flows, the laughter is often, and to the outside world, we look like two happy, normal couples. But you and I know the truth. Beneath the polite dinner conversation, there is a profound longing. We sit there, shackled by the obligation of having wives present, unable to satisfy our craving for our special togetherness. While the conversation is easy and it may seem as if we are both present, we are, in fact, locked in a silent embrace, bemoaning our fate at not being able to ditch the chicken and sweetcorn soup and go somewhere private to share our putters. And If you see us whispering across the table, do not assume it’s about you; we are likely discussing the merits of a stiff versus regular shaft.

Dave, the news of your impending knee replacement has left me bereft. And it’s not just that it’s a surgical blasphemy against a body otherwise perfect in every way, it’s also the fear that the surgeons might not fully grasp the magnitude of their task. They aren’t just replacing a joint; they are repairing a key component of a perfect game.

Given that Dave is temporarily sidelined, to aid a speedy recovery the following mandates are now in effect. Eileen and Maria, you are hereby tasked with the list below. Failure to comply will result in a permanent forfeiture of your ‘plus one’ status at the Maplewood.

• The Sanctuary Atmosphere: The recovery room in Dave’s home shall maintain a Masters Sunday level of silence. No hoovering, no Coronation Street or mindless other women’s programmes. The TV is to be locked on the Golf Channel.
• Icing Ritual: When applying ice, Maria, you must do so with the reverence of Dave cleaning his golf balls. Make sure the ice pack is at the optimal temperature for peak inflammation reduction.
• Hydration and Sustenance: Dave is to be hand-fed grapes and premium bottled water. Eileen, your role is to ensure that my visits are uninterrupted by dinner plans or shopping trips. When I am going to see Dave to sit by his bedside and stare wistfully at his bandages, you are to phone ahead to Maria who is to provide a perfectly brewed americano and then make herself scarce.
• The Vibe Protection Clause: Remember that Dave does not rehab; he ascends. So,when he is recovering, any slight improvement must be celebrated in a manner that is becoming of his awe. 
• Special Visitation Rights: In line with our special love, I shall have 24/7 access to the patient. Amongst other things, we will be discussing the physics of his new titanium components and how they might add an extra 100 yards to his drive. 
• Music: Two tracks to be played at least once daily. 1) Titanium by Sia as this is a literal anthem for Loverboy’s new bionic hardware. He is Titanium. 2) The Winner Takes It All by Abba to remind Maria and Eileen that while they have the house, I have Dave and he has me.

Hurry Back, Loverboy xxx

All my love,

MT xxx