A widow at 29.

First of all, I know you're all on the edge of your seats: he called. Three times, in fact, the last call lasting for over an hour and somehow turning into a [helped along by beer] "RD is fabulous, wonderful, sweet, great and an angel and I wish I were with her instead of just talking to her on the phone" conversation. One that ended with a promise to make up for lost time tonight.

Until he emailed this morning and asked if we could postpone until tomorrow because he wants to take advantage of the nice weather and go out for a round of golf. Though obviously disappointed, especially after being built up so much last night, I acquiesced and told him it was okay. I gave him permission. My permission has, officially, I think, turned me into a golf widow.

My thoughts on this: while I will eventually get to the point where his extreme love of the links will get the best of me, for now, I'm okay with it. Because, and this is really unhealthy, I'm sure, I'd rather him be on the golf course drinking beers with other boys than with other girls. Of course, ultimately, I'd rather he be with me. But I think golf is the lesser of the evils. And, golf vacations for him mean spa days for me, right?