I just don't understand soap operas. Now, don't misunderstand me; I've watched soap operas before. Regularly. But that doesn't mean I understand them.
Years ago, when I worked at the radio station, my schedule shifted from a near-midnight bedtime to a sunrise bedtime.
Not all at once, mind you. But a little at a time.
I worked the 7-12 shift at the radio station. That's 7:00 PM. To midnight. So, at midnight, the last record finished, a station ID was given, and ABC news started. At 12:05, I hit the cart with the sign-off. And at 12:06:40, I hit the "off" button on the transmitter.
Yes, it was a little radio station that went off the air at midnight. Unless the Braves were on the west coast.
So, I'd finish things up, verify all the doors were locked, confirm the coffee machine was loaded but turned off, check all the windows, wipe everything down one last time, and around 12:15-12:20, I'd be out the door and heading home.
Being young, single, and stupid, I'd get home and turn on the TV. And that's when channel 11 from Savannah would play their movies. The All-Knight Movie, they called it. And I'd stay up later and later, finally staying up until sunrise.
Of course, going to bed at sunrise meant sleeping till noon. Or later.
And I'd get up and turn the TV on. And one day, flipping through the channels, I ran across some soap opera that had some woman kidnapping some baby. And I watched. And kept watching.
It was One Life To Live. And I kept watching it. But I never knew why. And to this day, I still don't.
I don't watch it anymore. And haven't for over 25 years.
But the Wife watches soaps. She's a fan of As The World Turns and Guiding Light. And she began watching them a while back. But her schedule now is the same as mine, and she's not home to watch them.
But she knows how to program a VCR. Well, mostly. But enough to tape two soap operas.
So, every night, she turns the TV on, rewinds the VCR, and hits play. And I get the pleasure of watching two soaps.
Boy, I'm as happy as a pig in crap. Well, not really. But she is, I guess.
I still don't get it.
Is it that there are people who have it worse than we do and we want to enjoy their misery? That's what I think it is. But I could be wrong.
It certainly isn't the exciting, true-to-life storylines. I mean, how many people do you know that have been married to Billy (big brother), H.B. (daddy), and Josh (little brother) (and haven't been on Jerry Springer)? And have been cloned? And drove off a bridge and became a princess?
I didn't think so. And that's just one character.
So, no, it's not the true-to-life stories. It's got to be the sorry state of things that appeals to the Jerry Springer in all of us.
Maybe I do understand it. And that's what scares me.