A woman joins an exclusive country club and overhears a group of men discussing their latest golf round.
“I played on my college golf team,” she chimes in. “I was pretty good. Mind if I join you next week?”
The men hesitate. They don’t want to say yes, but they’re caught off guard. Finally, one of them agrees—figuring an early tee time will discourage her.
“We start at 6:30 a.m.,” he says, expecting her to back out.
She pauses. “That might be a problem. I could be up to 15 minutes late.”
They roll their eyes but agree.
To their surprise, she shows up at 6:30 sharp and absolutely crushes them with an impressive 2-under-par round. She’s friendly, gracious, and fun to be around. Impressed, they invite her back the next week.
She smiles. “I’ll be there at 6:30… or 6:45.”
The following week, she arrives right on time again. But this time, she plays left-handed—and still beats them, finishing even par. The guys are dumbfounded.
Determined to finally outplay her, they invite her back once more.
On the third week, she actually does arrive 15 minutes late, irritating the group. This time, she plays right-handed again and narrowly beats them. Though suspicious, they can’t stay mad—she’s too charming and complimentary of their game.
Afterward, over beers in the clubhouse, one of the men finally asks, “Alright, we’ve got to know… how do you decide whether to play right-handed or left-handed?”
She blushes and grins. “Well, I’m ambidextrous, so I like to switch it up. When I got married, I discovered my husband always sleeps in the nude. Each morning, before I leave for golf, I pull the covers off him. If his, um… equipment points to the right, I play right-handed. If it points left, I play left-handed.”
The men burst into laughter. But one, still curious, asks, “What if it’s pointing straight up?”
She smirks. “Then I’m 15 minutes late.”
“I played on my college golf team,” she chimes in. “I was pretty good. Mind if I join you next week?”
The men hesitate. They don’t want to say yes, but they’re caught off guard. Finally, one of them agrees—figuring an early tee time will discourage her.
“We start at 6:30 a.m.,” he says, expecting her to back out.
She pauses. “That might be a problem. I could be up to 15 minutes late.”
They roll their eyes but agree.
To their surprise, she shows up at 6:30 sharp and absolutely crushes them with an impressive 2-under-par round. She’s friendly, gracious, and fun to be around. Impressed, they invite her back the next week.
She smiles. “I’ll be there at 6:30… or 6:45.”
The following week, she arrives right on time again. But this time, she plays left-handed—and still beats them, finishing even par. The guys are dumbfounded.
Determined to finally outplay her, they invite her back once more.
On the third week, she actually does arrive 15 minutes late, irritating the group. This time, she plays right-handed again and narrowly beats them. Though suspicious, they can’t stay mad—she’s too charming and complimentary of their game.
Afterward, over beers in the clubhouse, one of the men finally asks, “Alright, we’ve got to know… how do you decide whether to play right-handed or left-handed?”
She blushes and grins. “Well, I’m ambidextrous, so I like to switch it up. When I got married, I discovered my husband always sleeps in the nude. Each morning, before I leave for golf, I pull the covers off him. If his, um… equipment points to the right, I play right-handed. If it points left, I play left-handed.”
The men burst into laughter. But one, still curious, asks, “What if it’s pointing straight up?”
She smirks. “Then I’m 15 minutes late.”
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