Here’s my theory on why men do anything in this world: Because they hope it will get them more sex.
Which is why I’m mystified about the no-females policy at Augusta National golf course, home of the Masters.
For example, let’s say you’ve worked hard all day and cooked a great dinner. You’re sitting in the living room, dreading getting up and tackling the dishes. Suddenly you hear the sound of running water coming from the kitchen. Oh no! Is there a burst pipe? Has the faucet blown? You run to the kitchen, and there stands your husband, washing the dishes. Is he doing it because he loves you and thought you looked really tired? No, he’s hoping to have sex with you tonight.
Why does he mow the grass when he could hire a 14-year-old for less than the cost of a bag of McDonald’s? Not because he needs the exercise. Not because he loves fresh air. Not because he loves walking back and forth in endless straight lines. He wants an excuse to take off his shirt and dazzle you with those rock-hard pecs and abs.
Why does he rush to open that jar the lid is stuck on? No, I’m sorry, he doesn’t just really want you to have that pickle you’re craving. He wants a chance to flex those guns. No matter how fat a guy gets, the guns are alway a show-stopper. Why do you think guys always wear short-sleeved shirts?
And yet, here at Augusta, the guys won’t let girls in. Isn’t that odd? I know little boys have their “No girls allowed” signs on their rickety little treehouses, but pretty much as soon as puberty hits, they’re like, “Oh, crap, take down that damn sign! Girls, girls, over here!”
Poor guys will go anywhere to meet girls. They walk the dog. They go to church socials. They take classes in photography. Not the rich guys at Augusta. I’m not saying rich guys don’t like girls. Is it the rich women? Are they so God-awful that rich men run into the Augusta clubhouse and bar the doors to get away from these horrible Medusas? Do they tremble with fear as these harridans pound on the door and demand entry?
So yeah, poor guys will do anything to meet women. Why not rich guys? And don’t tell me, “Oh, I’m already married. I don’t need to meet women.” A) half of all marriages fail, so most guys would be keeping their options open, and B) unless your secretary is 15 years older than you and looks like a dude, I know that’s not true.
And don’t say, “Well, you have girls-only clubs.” We don’t ban men from our events. Men just won’t come to them. Do you really think a woman would be angry if her husband offered to do something she likes for a change, like go to a scrapbooking party? No, she would love it.
Plus, whenever rich guys get together for “golf,” what they’re really doing is making bazillion-dollar business deals. Keeping women out puts them at a serious disadvantage when it comes to getting contracts, etc.
So why talk about this Augusta thing now? Well, every year, the Masters at Augusta is sponsored by a couple of big companies, including IBM. We’re talking crap-loads of money. The CEO of IBM is given a membership to the club and allowed to golf there and is given a, well, really tacky green jacket.
But not this year. No such invite has been extended, because this year the CEO of IBM is a woman.
Virginia Rometty, CEO of IBM, cannot golf at the place her company is sponsoring a tournament at.
And here’s the crazy thing: Until 1990, BLACK GUYS COULDN’T GOLF THERE EITHER. Oh, that was a big old stink. IBM and a bunch of other companies withdrew sponsorship of the PGA championship scheduled to be held at Shoal Creek, another private golf club that didn’t admit blacks, and Shoal Creek and Augusta suddenly let in a black guy. I don’t know how many black guys they actually have, but at least they don’t have a formal rule keeping them out.
How is this even legal? Honestly, I thought discrimination on race and gender was outlawed?
And why all the stink about discrimination of blacks and absolute silence about discrimination of women? How come IBM isn’t withdrawing sponsorship this year? She’s one of your own, man!
So here’s what I think should happen this year if Augusta doesn’t extend an invite to Rometty: Whoever wins the tournament should refuse the green jacket. Until Rometty gets one, I don’t want one. It’s a symbol of sexism, of the old-boy network. I don’t want to support that.
I’ll take the trophy, but you can keep that ugly green jacket.
(Oh, and thanks to my husband for handing me a newspaper and saying, “There’s your rant for tomorrow.” It’s so nice to know he actually likes women.)