I am Gullible...and I want to Golf

How gullible am I? No, I’m not “send your bank account number and social security number to the exiled Nigerian prince” gullible, but I am pretty gullible when it comes to my friends. If I care about you, if I truly trust you, then chances are that I will believe any line of bullshit you throw my way. My friends have gotten me a couple of times with really silly, ridiculous stuff. These lies I been caught believing are pretty embarrassing, too embarrassing to mention here, but I don’t kick myself for long about those. I do, however, beat myself up when it comes to some stuff. I get upset with myself for being stupid enough to believe it, even though it’s not my fault. The situations are usually ones where I’m being lied to, or being mislead, and the person won’t or can’t come clean with me. The stupid little pranks and lies my friends feed me, they usually cop to as soon as they hear me say “Really?!” But the ones that get my goat are the ones I figure out on my own and have to stomach so as to not create a confrontation. Yeah, I should call them out on it, but what does that do except to embarrass them and make you look more like the ass than them. I’ve done it before…not pretty. So I sit, and let these charades go on, knowing full well the truth or at least thinking I do. This allows me to elaborate and embellish these “truths” I believe thus angering and upsetting me even more. My gullibility knows no bounds and neither does my imagination until I can’t take it even more. Then I just shut down. Ugh, I’m in the middle of one of these right now and just can’t shake it. Whatever you do, don’t get me started.
Now that I’ve put my frustration out there, I have to say, I can’t wait for my new golf clubs to arrive. I haven’t played golf since my best friend’s wedding and have been itching to start up again. Sure, sure, I am admittedly not that good. Yes, I do have one of the wicked slices in the known world of golf. But, amidst the numerous shots that find their way almost directly to the right, there are some glimpses of hope. One avid recreational golfer even commented that I had one of the smoothest swings he had ever seen. I know I could be a great golfer. If I got any genes from my father, then the golf gene should have been one of them. For someone who has only played recreationally his entire life, he is one of the best I’ve seen. He consistently plays below par with a set of clubs that is far from the cutting edge. In fact, whenever I mention that he should get new ones, which is his excuse, “Why? I’m playing just fine with the ones I have.” I know that he started playing golf in his late twenties, and I’m in my late twenties, which means that someday I could be as good as him. I don’t appreciate golf as much as he does, and certainly don’t watch it for hours on end on Sunday afternoons, but someone I could…who knows. Anyway, I stoked mostly about the new clubs I am getting. As some of you may know, my golf clubs were stolen unceremoniously from the toolbox in the back of my truck a month or so ago and I’ve been doing my research and been trying to make a decision about what to replace them with. I opted not to get some top of the line, state of the art, albeit used clubs and decided to get a nice set of middle of the road clubs. I don’t need something fancy, I need something that will be reliable and help me improve my game through improving my mechanics, not by clubs. The other thing I am excited about is buying a new golf bag. Golf bags have come a long way since I bought my old one, and I am learning to appreciate how the bag can make a statement about you more than the clubs or your game. I’ve got the one I want picked out, but I am waiting to see what the head covers on new clubs look like so I can make a decision about color. Yes, I am color coordinating my clubs and my bag. No, I am not gay; I just want to look professional. Look professional, be professional…that is one of my mottos. That, and…everybody wang-chung tonight.