A year-old career bachelorette decided her dating style needed an overhaul, so she took up golf to meet men on manicured greens instead of in smoky bars. Of course she met men. But she also made friends. And found a new vocation that took her to the most beautiful resorts and most famous courses in the world.
Born to Golf, Eventually: An excerpt from “Confessions of a Golf Slut”
Born to Golf, Eventually: "Confessions of a Golf Slut" excerpt
With their cover girl looks and designer clothes, the wives and girlfriends of sports stars or WAGs, as they are known in the UK , lead seemingly perfect lives. But two former partners of professional athletes have simultaneously released tell-all books that claim reveal the dark reality behind the gloss. Sherrie Daly, the fourth ex-wife of golfer John Daly, and actress Rosa Blasi, who has dated so many athletes, she has been called a jock-aholic, have made their stories public. Teed Off: Sherrie Daly, the fourth ex-wife of golfer John Daly has released a book revealing the dark reality behind her seemingly perfect marriage. Her tales of prostitutes stalking players across the green, and her ex-husband's gambling and alcoholism reveal a seedy side to the sport. Professional golfers behave as dirty as any other professional athlete or rock star. She explained how easy it was for players to arrange to meet with the girls, who acting as golf groupies, would ask players to autograph their balls.
From a round at Sharp Park to a wedding at City Hall. I met a good man who wants to play golf with me for the rest of his life, and so it seems natural and inevitable that all of a sudden a golf slut would become a golf bride. The things that happened to her happened to me. I just reordered some chronology for the sake of the story, and I altered some details to protect some identities. I did not necessarily think or feel the way she did, although in some cases I wished I had.
Right wish list I pounded out in to conjure Cupid. I made my point manifesto, typed it onto bright blue paper, folded it many times, and tucked it into my wallet, so that it would always be with me to cast out a magnetic field. And with Match. Much of it was based on the hope of meeting someone much nicer than the previous boyfriend, the one who angrily ripped up a pair of pants because he had grown too wide to zip them, and who slammed golf clubs at trees or into the ground when he could not execute shots.