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Great excitement. A date with an engineer for a change. A first. He looked very attractive in his hard-hat. John2 seemed like a good option and worthy of a drinks date.
John2 was garrulous, jolly and full of fun. He was open. He was a sharer. His son called during drinks to see how things were progressing and asked to speak to me! He asked me whether or not Dad was behaving himself. He was indeed. John2 recounted the tales of, inter alia, his marriage, why it did not work out, in particular. This was fascinating. Poor John2, how aggrieved he was: Mrs John2 just did not get him. They seldom do, it seems. All John2 actually wanted to do was have his mates around, to gather at their family room pub (built-in with those pull-down handles to draw beer, badges and framed rugby jerseys on the wall and an over-sized flat screen to watch rugby matches) and then to braai. Outside. Regardless of the weather conditions. But, no. Mrs John2 had other ideas. And evidently, Mrs John2 was a strong woman. Her ideas became reality. Often. Mrs John2 liked dinner parties; the variety where the guests sit at the table at the same time and eat in unison. She like to serve courses and have different coloured wines served with the various dishes. And candles. And napkins (they are not called serviettes, john2, these are made of fabric). This was not what John2 had in mind for Saturday night fun. Especially if there was a rugby match to watch, whether at 3pm, 5pm or 7pm or all three.
Mrs John2 would go "cray" (to quote my kids, it is the same as "crazy" I am told) when things did not pan out the way she planned. You see, John2 and his mates would get carried away at the home-pub like they do. Springbok shooters ("Springbokkie") for a try scored (regardless which team scores), a flaming Sambuca for a conversion ... get the picture. Then it would be dinner time and Mrs John2 would call the men to the table. The men were not so keen, they were happily ensconced at the bar counter. Sometimes they didn't eat at the table, but piled their plates up high with beautifully prepared fare and returned to the bar counter. On those occasions Mrs John2 went stark raving mad. After the guests had left. Funny that.
A happy evening it was for me with John2. John2 called the next day and asked me out for dinner. He said we got on so well the evening before we should repeat the fun. I explained to John2 that coincidentally he was inviting (subconsciously) his wife out for dinner. You see, I explained to John2, I am just like your wife. John2 was confused. "But you are such a sport!" he said. "No, John2, I am not a sport at all. If I had to slave away over a hot stove, or even supervise the staff in the kitchen who were slaving over a hot stove or even if I was the one supervising the making of a salad for the braai and you and your mates opted to leave us wives (aka the "government") at the table alone in favour of the bar ... " John2 was quiet. He got the picture. He was scared. He was not looking for another Mrs John2.
I wonder why John2 is still single. I know why I am. Too many John2s out there. Clearly, too many Mary1's too!