What makes men happier than the Levitra man, requires fists full
of singles to keep happy and always keeps you coming back for more?
If you guessed a woman, you’d be wrong. If you guessed a stripper,
you wouldn’t be wrong. But if you guessed the game that brings
grown men to their knees on a nightly basis but keeps bar rooms
buzzing from happy hour to last call, Golden Tee, you would be
right on.

You see, Humphrey’s used to be a quiet place. Sure, the
Wednesday and weekend night free-for-alls were a common occurrence,
but during the lunch and dinner hours, this local tradition was
occupied by the bare minimum of patrons. That is until the
phenomenon known as Golden Tee gripped this quiet, white island in
the middle of midtown St. Louis. Since that time, oh-so-many years
ago, the game that boyfriends and brothers love has become the game
that single women despise. This beacon of hope for almost every
Polo wearing, jean clad, middle-class, collegiate man is despised
by almost every member of the female persuasion. If you still don’t
know what I’m talking about, let me paint you a picture.

It’s just after six at your regular, everyday, run of the mill
drinking establishment. SportsCenter is providing soothing
background noise to a couple of Norm and Cliff characters sitting
at the bar, and four ladies with four different hair colors yapping
away in the back booth about the last Friends episode, Carrie
Bradshaw’s new boyfriend or some such thing. Just then, four men
come strolling through the front door of this classy joint with
wandering eyes and looks of conviction: They are in search of
something. As their eyes scan the room they come to a stop on the
ladies table. Or so you think. As they come walking up, the young
women shift into position, as if to ignore the men until the moment
when they finally stop and say hi. So, it is no shock that none of
these women notice the four men stroll right by the awaiting vixens
until the most brazen of them turns around and sees them come to a
stop just in front of a video game console. The first seems to
genuflect in reverence to this great machine, only to quickly
bounce back up and proudly announce: “She takes singles, baby!”

And so begins another night of pain and anguish for the ladies;
one-upped again by the square curves and luscious graphics of
Golden Tee.

The actual game of Golden Tee is a simple one. You select your
club, you aim and, then you place your finger tips squarely on top
of the bocce-looking ball, then, just like real golf, “back first,
then forward.” It’s an art for some players and just a pain in the
butt for others. But, again like real golf, one great shot, one
perfect draw or one giant pitch and you can’t wait to feed the old
girl a couple more singles to keep the fun coming. And, better than
most games of golf, you don’t have to wait until after you finish
your round to visit the 19th hole. Because of Golden Tee, the
country club circuit has conveniently been relocated to the
neighborhood bar.

Bars used to be quiet places. They were places for men to come
day in and day out, order the same drinks, play the same songs on
the juke box and tell each other the same lies they’ve been telling
for years. But no longer.

This bar room phenomenon, having risen to the esteemed levels of
PacMan and Space Invaders, has gripped a nation full of hormonal
20-something males and made them believe, if only for a night, that
the reason they don’t have dates this Valentine’s Day (or any day
for that matter) is because they have found a more important
calling in life; never mind the fact that they haven’t showered in
two weeks and can’t see out of their left eye because their hair is
too long (you know who you are).

So a word of advice to all of those lovely ladies out there who
are just looking for the companion of gentleman for the evening:
Just unplug the machine.