I once received a text message saying, “This guy thinks he’s so much better than I am because he drives a Mercedes and I drive a golf cart.” So I wrote a short story trying to give that sentence a place in the world. Because it should never die. Ever.
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Golf balls.
Maybe common things lose their value because they’re common. No wonder DeBeers has decided to hold so many diamonds off the market. It keeps the price up.
Diamonds.
Diamonds make me think of Julie. I should say “Julia.” In the two years we were together she had changed more than just her name. I was going to propose. I had saved up most of seven thousand dollars by the time she got around to dumping me. I guess in some way I owe her a semblance of gratitude for my state of the art entertainment center. A 72” plasma screen has never been so depressing.
Diamonds. Not like these golf balls. Can’t drive around the range and scoop up diamonds. Just golf balls.
I saw her yesterday. She didn’t recognize me – or maybe she just didn’t think to look at who the caddie was driving some rich old man and his wife around the course. They spent the whole day just hitting golf balls. It’s not even a sport. I don’t understand why they do it.
She had her new boyfriend with her. His insolence oozed from every greasy pore on his over-tanned face. “You think you’re so much better than I am because you drive a Mercedes and I drive a golf cart,” I thought as she sat next to him. I knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t think he was better than I was. He didn’t even know I existed.
Golf was never her thing. It was something she and I had in common. She looked bored sitting there. I knew she was. But she can have her boredom. Maybe she even deserves it. Maybe I’m bitter, maybe just a little.
I smiled inwardly as I made small-talk with the rich old man’s wife as we disinterestedly watched her husband hit golf balls.
