Thirteen is their lucky number.

Jeff, Tad, Joe and Scott playing Harbour Town golf

For 13 years the guy in the blue and the guy in the black have been roughing it on an annual golf outting, traipsing up and down a trail pioneered by some joker named Robert Trent Jones; the other two characters have tagged along most of those years.  Another four rounds out an even eight, most of them friends for decades.

When they got tired of the commute–and because Cool Sunglass Boy on the left has a condo there–they switched venues to Hilton Head Island, certainly close to God's Country and one of my favorite memory spots of all time.  At least one round they'll ferry over to Daufuskie Island, sparkling diamond in the rough.

This year when a door opened to play Harbour Town, they held hands and skipped through; or something like that, I've been told.  The course is unmistakable with the Harbour Town Lighthouse standing sentry.  Some would say it's too pricey to play, but I'd wager the guys would say it's priceless to have played.  

They leave the womenfolk behind, and we're just fine with that. Some of us bake poundcake (guilty) or cookies (Fancy), and the rest just send them on their merry way, knowing this is good for our guys.  It's a tradition we've come to appreciate almost as much as them, and I must say it's easier now than it was when our babies were, well, babies.  

And though a few stories make it back home–riding in the porno-van (no, it's not what is sounds like…exactly), catching restaurants on fire, and tales on the way to Marshside Mamas–what happens in Hilton Head (or Alabama) stays in Hilton Head.

Which is perfectly alright with me.

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Do you take part in an annual girls'/guys' weekend away or encourage your spouse to do the same?  What are your thoughts about the benefits or why might you discourage it?  I'm curious.


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