Eighteen Holes and One Humbling Moment

It was my first time playing all 18 holes with my brand new boyfriend who had just introduced the game to me. A full round. The real golf experience.

We were in the South, where the sun doesn’t just shine, it presses down on you like a hot iron. I wanted to be sporty and supportive, so I threw on my cutest golf outfit: pleated skirt, ponytail, visor, the whole deal. I looked the part… for about the first nine holes.

Somewhere around hole 12, the southern heat started to creep in. My legs felt like overcooked spaghetti, and I was slowly turning the same color as my boyfriends polo. But I was determined. I powered through with sips of warm water, a smile (mostly for show), and my boyfriends sweet encouragement.

By hole 17, I was woozy. By tee box 18… I was gone.

Mid-swing setup, I staggered behind a tree like I was in some sort of cartoon meltdown and—well—let’s just say breakfast didn’t make it to the 18th green.

I was mortified. But my boyfriend? He didn’t laugh. He didn’t flinch. He just walked over, gently handed me a cold water bottle and a towel, and said, “You almost made it the whole round. That’s pretty badass.”

And in that moment, sweat-streaked and slightly green, I smiled, and have always remembered this lesson. Because marriage, like golf, is about showing up for each other, whether you’re sinking birdies or barfing behind a tree.