Gender Open

Without diving too deeply into the myriad of freshly identified and ever expanding tidal pool of human gender deliniations filling the cups of scientific journals and dictionaries these past several years, I am most firmly convinced my golf game is completely genderless.

But for the extra body hair, sperm count, and XY chromasome chaser, gender neutral seems presently, the perfect slot for my confusing golfing game. No one more than my, very manly, full on XY, macho savage, long ball hitter son, gives me more reason to suspect my golf games likely gender fluidity.

My catlike ability to attack the green, with all hardware from the Driver to the putter is my calling card (literally, have you seen the flayling paws of a kitten attempt to even try to properly hold a pitching wedge), likely why the muffled background noises catching the breeze in a snickering fade upon result of my swing seem to reference the metaphor (*pussssaaaayyyyy)

The larger scraps of fairway tossed or timid nibbling at a clubstrikes requirement is too often, in footage, equaled by a stunningly similar forward projection in spectacular inches. I see in those dire strikes a form of humiliating links homage to the millimeter metric system of this lovely sports damp Scottish home.

I realize now that I am not a fully male golfer. Not to say those of alternate chromasome cant wack the shite out of balls correctly (from the ladies tee of course) but my game can not any more identify as being manly. I have joined the golf swing genderless. I dont seem to sport enough testosterone to turn compressed man rage into a spinning Krakatoa sand blast or enough of that controlled estrogen laser focused tidal fury to slap n tap that white, pink or blue ball to where "I Must Have It Go!"

I can only now identify as a Caddie! I can no longer drive the cart without confusion and shame. I must walk the course marshalling alone or except whatever (unique/eunic), handsome, course drink vendor, destiny awaits me, should I continue connection to the holy green. My clubs are now literally "they" and "them", I am a Siswedging Pandriver? Lost, yes lost across the green and swimming once more. Topped it again, Dammit!

-Hermit King-