I have sometimes said that I have a soap opera life. It’s true. Stuff like this just doesn’t happen outside of movies. Except, well, it does to me. Take, for instance, last night…

I swing dance, and the tradition is that on your birthday (which was Tuesday), you get what’s called a birthday jam, sort of an exhibition dance while the guys take turns stealing you. I had been kinda hoping to duck it this year. It’s finals week, and I had hit the kind of tired where you’re walking into walls and forgetting what day it is. I was thinking that I wasn’t going to go at all, but I had books to trade with Trey. The plan was go, trade books, dance three or four dances, and scoot before they remembered that I just had a birthday. It almost worked, too. I even had my shoes off ready to slip into my sandals and leave, when Anna called from the DJ booth, “Bernadette, get your shoes back on!”

So… I put my dancing shoes back on. This took me a little bit, and when I was done, there wasn’t anyone waiting to escort me onto the floor. Social dancing doesn’t work without a partner. I walked out to the middle of the floor, raised my arm, called, “Ok, I need a boy!” and waited. From behind me, I heard, “That would be my job!” I started laughing, and turned. It was Trey, striding towards me and glaring at the others. “All the rest of you, stay back!” It was like something out of a movie, or a romance novel. I got, like, claimed. It was awesome. After that, how could the dance not be good?

Too bad he doesn’t mean it.