Soap Opera Sunday

A couple of years ago (that's like a decade in web time, right?) I joined this thing called "Soap Opera Sunday", where every Sunday a bunch of bloggers wrote soap opera like posts on their blogs. It was started by Brillig and Kate.  Many were true stories, but there was some good fiction too. I decided to chronicle how I got from divorced at 27 to being Mrs. Hot Guy.

I don't know how many of you were reading my blog back then, so if this is a repeat to you, I'm sorry. But it is Sunday and I can't think of anything else to post.

Soap Opera Sunday, Episode 1

When I moved to Kansas City, I was 27 and newly separated. I moved to KC for three reasons: because I got what I thought was my ideal teaching job there, because my ex-husband wasn't too far away in case the separation didn't take and because I was afraid to move back into my parents' house in New Jersey.

After the first four months, I realized how happy I was without my ex, so I suggested a divorce. Slowly I started to get my self-esteem back. I made some friends and had two suburban sports bars where I felt comfortable and safe. I volunteered and joined the art museum's young members group. I even started pseudo dating. While his mixed signals gave him the nickname "Freakboy", he was a friend and a good way to step back into the world of romance.

Not that I was in any rush to become romantically entangled with anyone again. Especially after my  friend T. got dumped and went on a singles scene rampage. Suddenly the suburban bars weren't good enough for her and she dragged me to Kelly's in Westport - one of the biggest pick-up spots in the Western hemisphere (at least it was at the time). After buying our trough-like beers, we spotted an empty table. Then T. needed to go to the bathroom andour other friend R. went to find chairs for our table. My job was to guard the beers from Roofie spilling sickos.

Naturally two seconds after the others left a sleazy older (I thought of him as "older" then, he probably wasn't actually much over forty, which doesn't seem so old now but the "sleazy" still fits) guy slid over to me and started talking. I panicked when I realized that my usual suburban bar tactics (escape to the bathroom, get an acquaintance to get rid of him) wouldn't work. I couldn't carry the three troughs of beer anywhere, and I didn't want to lose the table. I told him I wasn't interested, but sleazy guy didn't notice. He even took a step closer and I couldn't move away because I had to stand between him and our beers.

Then I looked up and saw a cute guy shuffling through the narrow aisle nearby. He was looking at me and I decided to take a chance. "Honey!" I called as I waved to him frantically. As he came closer, I realized that he was a very young cute guy. A possibly not even old enough to be in the bar cute guy. Would he get what was going on?

Sleazy guy leaned over and said to my chest, "Is that your------" and then all of a sudden I was being kissed.

Cute young guy had swooped in and grabbed me like I was a heroine in a romance novel. I hadn't been kissed like that in years. By the time we came up for air, sleazy guy was gone. "I think you owe me a favor," said cute young guy.

That's the end of the first episode, which makes this post long enough. What I want to know is if you all would like me to resurrect Soap Opera Sunday and tell the rest of the story, or, um, not.