Ihave friends who are crushing the singles scene. Not to say they aren’t handsome, charming fellas who wouldn’t have met such desirable women in due time, but the Internet has no doubt hastened the efficiency and rapidity with which they land dates.

When it comes to overachieving, it’s also a new era for being a golfer.

Like dating apps, so do golf collectives—powered by digital connectivity—land tee times for users with various understandings.

Any private-club member can download Thousand Greens, set up a profile and essentially swipe right to set up golf games. The most expensive tier of membership is only $249 per year. Promptly reimburse your host for guest fees and don’t act like a sociopath, and there’s no limit to where you might play. The Friars Club and Eligo have more traditional membership vetting processes and charge initiation, but the idea is similar: a pooled network of clubs allows members to enjoy more courses. While also “collectives” in a sense, The Dormie Club owns its courses and Outpost Club runs large outings usually filled via ballot, so they’re less germane to this notion that the gates of top clubs are being hacked.

On a busy day, it’s easy to imagine the disdain of P.G. Wodehouse’s Oldest Member being told he must play behind a foursome of unaccompanied who got on via an app. He’d spit out his soup. But this isn’t fiction. Chances are it’s happening on a tee sheet near you.

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Epic Golf Club has more than 900 members who, among them, according to founder Noah DiPasquale, also boast membership at 86 of America’s 100 Greatest Courses. (Guessing most of the missing 14 is as easy as starting at the top.) I recently played Deepdale Golf Club with Noah, where he’d bought out the storied Long Island course on a Monday for his annual “Top 100 Appreciation Event” for his members without whom Epic wouldn’t be nearly as attractive an offering. Indeed, I met a lot of impressive logos. Socially, it was a spirited crowd eager to exchange phone numbers and make plans. Financially, the common denominator was folks who didn’t think twice about paying as much as $33,000 initiation and $3,400 dues to a club without property. Epic will host more than 30 outings this year, and the concierge service, through which Epic staff conveniently and discreetly handle all communications between members and clubs, organizes about 160 rounds monthly.

“People think we’re all about access, but more so it’s about connecting those who want to be part of a culture,” says Noah, a very likeable 8-handicap who grew up in a trailer, earned an MBA with an emphasis in marketing from the University of Phoenix, created and sold a technology consulting company, and along the way took up golf and became miffed by the puzzle of trying to host clients at nice courses. “Most of our members already have solid networks. But they want the experience of being hosted by a fellow member, which is 10 times better than having their home pro call ahead.”

Other things Epic members told me: “I want variety, so this seemed like a smarter idea than joining a second club.” And, “The concierge service works great if you’re flexible on dates or planning way ahead, but for me the events are more useful for meeting people and then setting up my own games.” Also, “There are takers, guys who belong to Podunk clubs and use Epic only to get on places they otherwise couldn’t, and they’re easy to spot.” The club has few hard rules, but a guiding principle is, try to do the right thing.

“You’re expected to host to the same degree you play as a guest,” Noah says. An Epic member from Baltusrol I spoke with hosts one multi-group outing per year, and asks only to be notified about requests from members of other 100 Greatest Courses. One golfer at the Deepdale event was from Grove XXIII, not a top 100 course on anyone’s list, but the halo of being Michael Jordan’s hang made organizers say sure, close enough.

Elite clubs have long been organized along unique ties. Maybe the rise of collectives suggests that all that matters anymore is money.

Bad behavior is about on par as at a typical club. Since 2018, Noah has refunded eight individuals their initiation. “We’re professional guests. If people didn’t conduct themselves properly, this would’ve fallen apart long ago.”

The relationship with top clubs is, of course, delicate. Revenue from Epic guest rounds and outings is not insignificant, but the perceived value of joining a place might diminish when it can be accessed separately. Further, club leaders talk about “preserving the sanctity of the first tee,” meaning that rectangle of turf should never feel impersonal or transactional. Then again, club members have been hosting practical strangers for business reasons since time immemorial. Few clubs if any would ever tolerate a member financially profiting by overcharging guests on the side, but again, such regrettable instances predate collectives.

I have a friend who is a member at a few prestigious clubs who isn’t a fan. “I don’t like the idea of a person having the ability to play top courses when their network isn’t great, or they haven’t been invited because they’re a jerk.” A recent president of a top-10 course didn’t mince words: “If we found out one of our members was involved in this, we’d take steps to throw his ass out.”

Noah accepts he can’t please everybody as much as he might wish. He finds affirmation in the network of 162 affiliate clubs with whom he has built positive relationships and can often place unaccompanied golfers, and from the fact he has minority investors who are members at two of the most exclusive clubs in the country. “They believe in the idea and the model, which has been profitable since day one.”

Perhaps what rankles some traditionalists most is lost identity. Elite clubs have long been organized along religious denominations and other unique ties. But in 2024, maybe the rise of collectives suggests all that matters anymore is money. Our nation is a capitalist democracy, after all. To risk a generalization about the Epic members I met, these were not people who still had their first nickel. Noah’s vision for the future of Epic is to create bespoke trips where members play sequences of top courses linked with private air travel and accommodations. “The sorts of experiences that a lot of our people wouldn’t even know how to begin to plan, or have time to.”

But forget the one-percenters. More widely, the next generation of golfers is going to be more comfortable meeting playing partners on the Internet first, then allowing relationships to develop. As the steward and purveyor of course rankings that might play a role in driving such behavior, I’ll emphasize that Golf Digest reporting on the phenomenon of collectives like Epic is not the same as an endorsement.

And forgive my ending with a ticklish analogy in dating, but wow, the prospects of more golfers getting on more great golf courses stands to go way up.

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