I Got Your Caddy Right Here: Ego Boy Rides Again

You only think men's egos are confined to the games and the little competitions they seek out in every available opportunity. The competitiveness comes from deep within and bleeds strong when someone actually beats them, looks better than them, or just does something better than them.

My friend Shaun and I recently went to visit some friends in North Carolina. We went to visit our friend "Jack," an old friend from high school who had just opened up a restaurant there. Shaun and Jack wanted to catch up over a round of golf and talk about the new girl in Jack's life:
Mandy. So I decided to go along. Mandy on the other hand, decided to be the indentured servant.

I am well aware of the fantasies that men have of women scantily clad waiting on them hand and foot. But I had never thought they would want their woman to caddy for them. But oh, I was wrong. Mandy was younger and must have been of the school where you earn your husband and then you serve him tirelessly. Bless her heart. No one sent her the memo that women just don't do that anymore. But she showered Jack with praises. "You're such a great golfer!"
I thought I was going to be sick. I looked over at Shaun, who is married to my lifelong friend Kristi, and said,"
Get 'em, Dog." It was all he needed to hear. It was touching, really.

I brought my camera to take a few pictures, and I quickly learned to guard it from Mandy~s hands. Yes, isn~t Jack cute when he puts, drives, cusses at the ball, lines up the hole and then misses it by three feet? It~s amazing, I know. Geeeeez. Were we ever like this when we were kids?
It was as if Jack were playing in front of his sister and a girl with a shrine to him in her room. ~Seriously, man, are you aiming at the ball? If you throw that club again, maybe your next shot will actually be better.~ As opposed to her: ~Babes, you are just having a bad day. You are the best player ever!~ Shaun and I would roll our eyes. I don~t know what is worse ~ the worship or the fact that they actually call each other ~Babes.~

Mandy finally came to the conclusion that Jack was just tired. "Hey, Babes, let me carry you bag. I'll caddy for you!" I couldn't hide the surprise in my face at this point. What was she doing? She had seriously just set the women's movement back fifty years. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"WHAT?!?" I screamed, not hiding my disgust.
"No, really, let me carry it. It'll be fun, Jack!"
"A golf bag is heavy, Mandy. It's not like carrying a purse."
"Yeah, I know. But hand it to me, I'll do it!'

Shaun and I shook our heads and laughed. Jack had always had an ego and now thanks to Mandy, he was going to riding a while on it again.

"Yeah," Jack said, "that's my girlfriend." And then he sang, "Big pimpin', spendin' cheese. Big pimpin' on b-l-a-des." He considered that his theme song.

Shaun looked over at me, smiling, and offered me his bag as Mandy half-carried, half-dragged Jack~s to the next hole. I said, ~If your back really starts hurting you, you know I will help you, but other than that, you know better.~

"I know. I know," he said laughing. "But don't you want to be the better girlfriend?" He said, batting his eyelashes.
"I'm telling Kristi."
"Oh, my bad. See, I was playin'."
"Yeah."

Up ahead, Jack's club was flying through the air again. He was about to go get and when I yelled for him to stop.

He just looked at me for a second. ~What?~

"I was just wondering if Mandy fetched too."

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