Soap Opera Sunday - The kiss

Hooray, I got inspired to do my first Soap opera Sunday. If you want some fun reads follow the link and have a look at all the other SOS people.

Lovely Brillig posted this a few weeks ago…

A man and a woman—who are acquaintances and not yet in love, though you know that in a matter of minutes they will be— are on the run, hiding from people who are chasing them. As the chasers approach, the man and the woman “hide” by engaging in a passionate kiss. The chasers are completely duped, and the man and the woman are safe.

Okay. So. Um….

1. Have you ever done something like this? (If so, you MUST tell the story!!!)

Well, I kind of have…

It was 1993.
There had been a plague of the loud music cattle-market type licensed premises sweeping through Mansfield, coralling the few who weren’t intent on finding Mr/Mrs right or Mr?Mrs Right now, into 3 bars.

Mr B and I are sat at a small table drinking bottles of bud. We’re in Stockwells, one of a dying breed of beer drinkers pubs in my hometown, a pub frequented by those who’s ideas might differ a little from the norm. Those who don’t go out dressed in Top Shop’s latest window display. Those who love music, but enjoy good conversation too, and preferred to go somewhere where they could actually hold one, a conversation I mean.

We’ve been together nearly a year so we’re still kind of new.
I’m, 19, he’s 33, and we lurve each other. You know, not just love, but luuuuurve.

So, we’re sitting there, sipping bud and holding hands. I get up to put a couple of songs on the Duke Box.
Like this (the first song), and this and this.

Then we see him.

He’s at the bar.

His back is to us, but we know it’s him. We’d know that denim jacket, fisherman’s jumper, pointy boots and large beard that seems to continue right round his neck and down his back like a built in polo neck.

(NB. This isn’t him. This man is probably lovely. But he looks a bit like him.)

Mr B: “Oh no. It’s Kev.”

Me: “”Bugger. Do you think he saw us?”

Heads down so as to avoid his eyes should he turn around, we discuss our options.

We can;

A. Leave.
B. Pray he doesn’t see us.
C. Sneak through the front door with our drinks, go round the other side and sit in a corner near some crusties.

We decide to go for C.

Gathering up our drinks we sidle towards the door.
Nodding a quick hello to the bouncers we slip in to the other room and secret ourselves away in a corner, hidden, we hoped, by the big wooden plynth on the pew-like seating.

We start chatting again, then Mr B freezes.

Kev, the most boring man in the world, the universe and beyond, is coming through the door. He too, has chosen to wend his way round to the other side of the bar. Mr B’s face is a picture of pure panic. I mean seriously folks, a night with Kev can make or break a relationship. He makes the shipping forecast seem interesting. He has this thing where he tries to analyze the most random of things about you.
Like…

Kev : “Why are you wearing great big Dr Marten boots with such a nice a dress?”

Me: “Erm, because I like them.”

Kev: “But why do you like them?”

Me: “I have no idea. I just do.”

Kev: “No, no, there has to be a reason.”

Me: “I just like them.”

Kev: “But why???”

You can see how that could be annoying right? And he does it allll night long.
So, I make a decision.

“Quick. Kiss me.”

Now, Mr B is quite shy. He’ll hold my hand. He’ll give me a kiss if we’re clubbing or walking home at night, and generally any time when it’s dark, but if we’re in company or it’s light, he’s more likely to just have his arm round me or give me a quick peck rather than a full blown tongue sarnie.

But today, we both know, a peck just will not do. It needs to be a full on snog.
I mean, nobody is going to sit beside a snogging couple are they?

So he goes for it. Firmly, sweetly, and for a long, long time. It’s like that first Rachael and Ross kiss. My eyes are closed. His are too. He’s holding my hands and it’s, you know, a moment.

After what seems like forever he draws away. And I grin at him as we look into each others eyes. Savouring the moment.

Then I feel something warm and soft on my neck.

Mr B looks aghast, and I turn to find a human gnome, sat so close to me I can tell when he breathes.

It’s Kev.

Bugger.