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Cape Town is home to two so-called "garden cities"; one is Pinelands and the other is Edgemead. They are particularly popular suburbs for their sense of community, the "village effect" I suppose is the attraction. Very important in these days of social disconnection. They boast their very own everything: library, municipal offices to renew your car license, schools, shops, the list is endless. In fact, one could live and die in a garden city never having ventured beyond the borders thereof. It's cosy, almost English country hamlet-like. Pinelands boasts thatched-roofed homes; very William Shakespeare / Anne Hathaway's cottage-style. Very popular. And property is not exorbitantly priced by Cape Town standards so these garden cities are an attractive place for young couples to purchase their first (and last) home.
One of my dating sifting criteria is "education": I am university educated as well as mainstream (with a spiritual edge), corporate and old-fashioned in an Audrey Hepburn sort of way. I find I resonate best with those of a similar educational orientation. Also with the more mainstream, corporate and old-fashioned kind of fellow. Or at least a combination of some of these criteria. Don't shoot me. It is what it is. John39 met my educational profile: a registered professional, corporate and all. A dinner date was set. Great excitement all round.
Fast forward to half way through the pizza (gluten-free base with rocket, brie and pear) and I began to spar (read: argue) with John39. He was born in a garden city, lived and went to school in this garden city, married a girl who was born and raised and schooled in this garden city. They purchased their first (his current) home in this garden city on one of those first-time home owner's bonds. They had two babies who are at high school in the garden city. His now ex-wife lives down the road in this garden city. Get the idea?
Okay, so John39 is a stable kind of man. Educated, mainstream, corporate and stable. However.
John39 did not believe in staff. John39 spent his evenings washing the dishes, ironing his crisp white work shirts and vacuuming after a long demanding day in the big corporate world. John39 spent weekends mowing the lawn, sweeping the fallen leaves off the slasto-paved path and tarmac driveway and cleaning the pool. John39 would never dream of soliciting help from anyone. I told him he was selfish; this country needs employers and he is keeping at least three people on the streets in his self-centred approach to personal lifestyle management. You see, John39 is a man of means. Considerable means. He can afford a full-time caterer, let alone a gardener. I suggested he spend his free time reading, watching documentaries, going to interesting talks, perhaps studying something interesting if he had a need to fill his evenings and weekends. And contract out the chores. The fish did not bite. Further, and significantly, John39 did not travel. No, holidays were not an option: who would mow the lawn and put out the black wheelie bin on rubbish removal day (Wednesday in Edgemead I believe)?
My kids were not impressed that John39 made his kids cook and clean and iron too. "That's tantamount to child abuse!" they cried. "When do they study?" they asked with horror. No, my kids are not spoiled. They can cook and clean. Ironing for the under-40s is banned. I don't want a fire. Okay, the son and heir can't clean anything but his teeth. But my philosophy is these poor little savages of mine will have the rest of their lives to slave away so while I can provide employment to take care of home tasks, they study. And study they do. It is called time optimisation in my home.
John39 appeared to be a frightened man. To me he was trapped in his life, in a strait-jacket. Constrained. Stuck. But, John39 was seemingly happy. Happy doing what he does. Which is what it all boils down to really. John39 and I had a few differences of opinion. A lot actually. But John39 is content in his lifestyle as I am in mine. Pity they were so diametrically different!