Like any good man, my boyfriend enjoys his Saturday morning golf outing, and like any good woman, I enjoy lying in bed until noon while he goes and does his thing. However, this past weekend, one of his friends canceled and they needed a fourth person so I begrudgingly offered to go along and play. I’m not a terrible golfer, but I usually only play nine holes with my dad, so I knew it was going to be an interesting day. What follows is a breakdown of my internal monologue.

Hole 1: I can totally play eighteen holes of this. I even hit the ball pretty straight on my first swing, so this is definitely going to be a good game. Maybe my boyfriend will start inviting me to play in the tournaments here soon if I can prove myself to his friends. That’s how it works, right?

Hole 2: Well, I had to swing a couple times to actually make contact with the ball at the tee, but I chipped it to the green fairly well. And plus, I’m a much better putter than he is. Only two over par that time, or double bogey. Whatever. This is so easy – I bet with a little practice I could join the PGA.

Hole 3: Okay, surely I can at least make par on this one since I’ve been doing so well. I suck with the woods, but I’m pretty good with the irons. I even make contact on the first swing 90% of the time with them. I should probably just come to the driving range and practice so that I can show him up next time we play together.

Hole 4: Wow, my arms are getting kind of tired. That’s what I get for shooting a nine on the last hole. I didn’t know golf was such a hard sport, especially since we get to ride in the golf carts. I really apologize for making fun of my dad all those years when he would need a nap after 18 holes.

Hole 5: I am getting increasingly worse. This game sucks. Also, my ankle hurts from flinging my club in a fit of rage. Probably shouldn’t do that next time I miss the ball. Maybe I should just focus on my putting, I can probably still do okay on that.

Hole 6: Putting on a green is absolutely nothing like putt-putt. There aren’t any castles, swinging windmills, or trick shots with the use of the corner board. Actually, this putting kind of sucks – it’s so much harder than it looks. And for all of you who get at eye level to look at the angle of the green before you massively miss the hole, you look like a douche.

Hole 7: I can’t believe we’ve already been out here for an hour and fifteen minutes. It’s hot and I’m starving. He told me he would feed me, but I didn’t know that it would take this long to go through nine holes. We must really suck.

Hole 8: I’m really fucking hungry. I haven’t eaten all day. I can’t believe I got dragged into this. Golf sucks and we still have another ten holes. This is definitely not my sport.

Hole 9: Okay, if I get through this hole then I can get food. Oh great, it landed in the sand trap. Now not only do I have to go through the work of leaving the cart, finding the right club, walking up to the ball, and hitting it, but now I have to rake the sand when I’m done. Don’t they pay the landscapers for this shit?

Clubhouse: Food. Thank you, Jesus. Hot dogs. There is a God. Okay, I’m good to go now that I’ve gotten my hot dog, my Skittles, and a Mountain Dew. I’m totally going to impress these guys now that I have food in my stomach – it’s like I’m a whole new person.

Hole 10: I’m just going to sit in the cart for this hole and eat my hot dog. I’ll play again at the next one.

Hole 11: That food didn’t help my game as much as I thought it would. That ball only went like fifty feet. And that ball went into the water. The back nine is just as stupid as the front nine. Why did I decide to waste my Saturday doing this? Never. Again.

Hole 12: Boyfriend is starting to give me dirty looks for complaining. I think I’ll just watch him play this hole – it looks like a long one. Actually, just sitting here and looking pretty is kind of nice. I could get used to golf as long as I get to drive the cart around and not get out.

Holes 13-18: Screw it - I’m done for the day.