My Husband Books Tee Times Every Saturday Morning Without Checking With Me and Says I Should “Find a Hobby Too” If I’m Frustrated

For a lot of couples, Saturday morning is the soft spot in the week—the one stretch of time that feels like it could become anything: chores, family time, sleeping in, a lazy breakfast, a quick trip out of town. But for one woman, that window has started to feel pre-booked by someone else. Her husband has been scheduling tee times every Saturday morning without checking in, and when she finally raised the issue, his response landed like a thud: if she’s frustrated, she should “find a hobby too.”

It’s the kind of comment that sounds harmless if you say it quickly, but it tends to echo in a relationship. Because underneath it isn’t just golf. It’s the feeling of being treated like an afterthought in your own weekend.

A standing tee time—and a standing frustration

According to the wife, the pattern is consistent: her husband books a tee time every Saturday morning and tells her after it’s done. Sometimes it’s early enough that it knocks out the whole morning, sometimes it stretches into lunch, and sometimes there’s a post-round hang that turns “a couple hours” into half the day.

On its face, golf is a healthy hobby. It’s outdoors, social, and for many people it’s a genuine stress-reliever. The trouble is that it’s also a time-hungry hobby, and when it becomes automatic—like a recurring meeting you didn’t agree to—it can quietly reshape a couple’s life.

The comment that made it worse

When she told him she felt frustrated that he wasn’t checking with her first, he didn’t exactly meet her halfway. Instead, he suggested she “find a hobby too,” implying that the real problem was her lack of activities rather than his lack of communication.

That’s where a lot of readers will wince, because it’s not really a solution. It’s a reroute. It takes a relationship concern—shared time, shared planning, shared respect—and reframes it as one person’s personal development project.

Why this hits a nerve for so many couples

This isn’t just a golf story. It’s a story about default assumptions: who gets to claim time, who does the invisible coordination, and whose plans are treated as “real” plans.

In many households, weekends are the only time to catch up on errands, family obligations, or just basic rest. When one partner automatically reserves a chunk of that time, the other partner often ends up either covering responsibilities alone or constantly renegotiating plans. Over time, that can create a very specific kind of resentment—the “I’m the only one who has to think about everyone” resentment.

Independence is good. Automatic independence is the problem.

It’s worth saying plainly: it’s healthy for spouses to have separate interests. Nobody wants a relationship where both people have to move as a single unit like a three-legged race team.

But there’s a difference between “I’m going golfing Saturday” and “I booked every Saturday indefinitely, and you’ll work around it.” The first is a request or at least a heads-up that leaves room for partnership. The second is a declaration that subtly positions one person’s wants as the default setting.

What “find a hobby” misses

On the surface, his advice sounds almost motivational. Like, sure, go take a pottery class and live your best life. But that’s not what she asked for.

She asked to be considered. And “find a hobby” doesn’t fix the core issue, which is that he’s making recurring plans that affect both of them without treating it like a joint scheduling decision. Also, plenty of people already have hobbies; they just don’t have the luxury of treating them like a standing reservation that overrides the household calendar.

The real question: Is Saturday morning “shared time” or “free time”?

Couples rarely talk explicitly about this, and then they’re shocked when it blows up. One partner thinks weekend mornings are communal by default—breakfast together, errands, kids, family stuff, maybe a slow start. The other thinks weekend mornings are personal by default—sleep in, do your thing, reconnect later.

Neither belief is automatically wrong. But if you don’t name it, you’ll live inside a silent disagreement, and the louder personality (or the faster planner) wins.

A more useful conversation than “Can I golf?”

If she wants to address this without turning it into a character trial, the most productive angle is the system, not the sport. Instead of debating whether golf is “allowed,” she can focus on how weekend plans get made and what feels fair.

That might sound like: “I’m not trying to take golf away from you. I need us to agree on how we use weekend time and how we check in before we lock plans in.” It’s harder to dismiss because it’s not about permission—it’s about partnership.

What a fair compromise can look like

In a lot of households, the fix is surprisingly practical. Maybe golf happens two Saturdays a month, and the other Saturdays are flexible or reserved for family and couple time. Maybe he can book early tee times so he’s home by mid-morning, or commit to being fully present afterward instead of disappearing into “the 19th hole” for hours.

Another option is rotating “protected time.” He gets a set block for golf, and she gets a set block for whatever she wants—seeing friends, a class, a quiet coffee shop morning, anything. Not because she needs a hobby to “earn” her feelings, but because balanced autonomy tends to lower tension fast.

When it’s not about golf at all

If this disagreement keeps happening, it might be pointing to something bigger: feeling taken for granted, uneven mental load, or one partner acting like a single person with a roommate instead of a spouse with a teammate. The Saturday tee time becomes the symbol because it’s visible and recurring.

One quick litmus test is to ask: if she booked something every Saturday without checking—brunch, yoga, a standing volunteer shift—would he genuinely be fine with it? If the answer is no, then the issue isn’t the activity. It’s the expectation that one person gets to pre-claim shared time.

Small wording shifts that can change the whole tone

There’s a big difference between “I’m going golfing Saturday” and “Hey, I’d like to golf Saturday—are we good?” One treats the relationship like a calendar conflict to manage together. The other treats it like a notification.

And if he’s tempted to repeat “find a hobby,” there’s a more respectful version available: “I didn’t realize this was stressing you out. How can we make weekends feel fair for both of us?” That doesn’t give up his interests. It just acknowledges that her frustration isn’t a personal flaw.

What experts often point out about recurring plans

Relationship counselors tend to flag recurring, unilateral plans as a common friction point because they create a power imbalance without anyone meaning to. The person booking feels normal and consistent; the person adapting feels managed around.

The healthiest version is usually simple: shared visibility (a calendar), shared rules (how far in advance to check), and shared priorities (some time reserved for the couple or family). It’s not romantic, but neither is passive resentment, so pick your poison.

For this wife, the goal doesn’t have to be “no golf.” It can be something more realistic and, frankly, more adult: “Yes to golf, and also yes to checking in first.” Because in a marriage, the real luxury isn’t a tee time—it’s feeling like your time matters too.

 

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