I got infected with golf from a dear friend who was at that point in my life my lover. I took one lesson, hit one great shot, heard that perfect thwock, felt and saw the ball fly, sweetly aloft, and I was sunk. I am a guilty golfer, of course, as it's irresponsible to NOT note the environmental ridiculousness of the sport. Chemicals, chemicals, chemicals, water, water, water, and a just stupid use of land. But, sigh, I guess that's why it's called an addiction. Just the prospect of the next amazing shot...
Kink has been a substantial part of My life for a stupid long time. If I had golfed as long, I'd be a helluva golfer by now. The day that I realized that the two mirrored one another letter wise, I'd just finished golfing and racing home with My boy for some intense hours of handballing. The parallels cracked Me the hell up. Every time a golfer plays a course, no matter whether the same day or same month, the conditions are different. When I play a body, it's no different. The conditions are complicated, the course is every changing. There are soooo many ways to get to one's intended destination, and being at top form demands focus and discipline. (pun not intended).
I believe it is incumbent on kinksters everywhere to take up golf as Y/your sport! Just imagine how much fun it would be to scandalize this profession that still operates with sexism as a principle....oh, joyous day to see collars on the course!
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