A presentable and rather nice fellow asked me today if I was married.
One may wonder what have I been getting up to. Who have I met? Is it serious? Is it the gardener from two years ago who out of the blue text messaged before Christmas to say he had been thinking of me, asked how was I and was I married yet?
One may wonder. He is a mechanic. No. And no.
The clue here is the guy is a mechanic. His question was to see if I had a husband who would be able to charge my car’s flat battery overnight.
I wasn’t going to play with the (actually quite lovely though way too young) fellow by asking how the other half (should I be married) could, by himself, charge the battery. Lucky for the young fellow he did ask if I owned a battery charger. (I don’t.) But still the questions were quite amusing. Sad, but amusing.
Do you watch GO, the digital tv station? I have been loving it. Reruns of the all time favourite shows from my childhood – The Flintstones, The Jetsons, and a few others. Have you watched – actually taken notice of – the family dynamics in The Flintsones and The Jetsons? These cartoons show the nuclear family in all its 1960’s glory with full gender role differentiation – the husband goes to work, sleeps, eats, yells (“Wilma!”) while the wife does the shopping, the housework, the child rearing, has a lovely meal on the table for their husband when they get home, and forgives the husband for their mis-derring dos. Sort of… remember the twin single beds in the Flintstones’ bedroom?
One would think 50 years later perceptions and gender role differentiation would have changed.
Luckily the Jetson family had robots to help fix things when they broke down while the Flintstones and the Rubbles didn’t have to worry about flat batteries given it was their feet doing all the work. As it seems so will my legs be doing all the work if I don’t get a car battery charger … or a man who has one.