I fell in love at the golf dome.

Yes, that's right. Love in a very unexpected and unusual place. The Golf dome at 5 mile and Haggerty. It happened in bay 22.
We had paid for bay 21 for an hour, and I was hitting my driver, trying to get my body to memorize my swing because I haven't been hitting the ball well lately. After about 30 or so swings, I started to hit it consistently. Drew, by this time, was getting tired of waiting so he had jumped on the bay next to us that was presently empty. When I put the driver away, he jumped over and started hitting off of our mat, so I moved over to bay 22 and said "Drew, I'm going to play around with your clubs."
His clubs are TaylorMade Rac LT2's, with a stiff steel shaft. They're much heavier than my Lynx Crystal Cat graphites. So I picked up his pitching wedge and started messing around. It took me a few swings to get used to the drastic weight change, but I was hitting them quite well.
But let's be honest, anyone can hit a pitching wedge. So I moved to an 8 iron. And consistently straight and long and low went the golf balls. I moved up to a 6 iron--a club that is (pardon the pun) hit or miss with me. Perfect. I decided that if I could hit his 5 iron (I have't hit my five iron well since freshman year of high school) I was converted. If I could describe to you how clean I consistently hit this club, you would want to learn how to irish dance. It was amazing. So I am in love with my brother's golf clubs. And they seem to be reciprocating.
Who needs a boy when there's golf?
Seriously.