J-scribe

I am about to out myself here as a hopeless romantic. Yes, I may have had a reputation as an interviewer for "going for the jugular" of slippery, evasive politicians live to air; yes, I’m a feminist academic with a rational brain and I’ve got inner strength by the bucket-load, I’m told. But tell me a tale of high romance and I turn to mush.

So, this week when a story about love at first sight on the New York subway made headlines, I followed the yarn as though it was a piece of explosive investigative journalism.

The story goes like this: Patrick Moburg, a 21 year old Brooklyn web designer was riding home on the subway last Sunday night when he spied the 'girl of his dreams' sitting nearby. Camille Hayton, a 22 year old Melbourne woman on an internship at a New York magazine, was wearing a red flower in her hair and wrote in her journal as the packed train headed towards its destination. Moburg was instantly smitten but he lost her in the crowd of commuters before he plucked up the courage to approach her.

He was not to be dissuaded, though…he believed the instant connection he felt with this stranger was destiny’s hand at play and he decided to give fate a nudge. He went home and created a website – nygirlofmydreams.com - on which he posted a hand-drawn picture of the beautiful woman with the rosy cheeks standing alongside him. He included his mobile number, email address, details of the journey and this message: “I saw the girl of my dreams on the subway tonight. Please help me find her”. And, help they did!

This story of love at first sight mobilized the online world and he was inundated with sightings and offers of love from complete strangers who (like me) thought “what an adorable man!” and urged him to “pick me instead”. But within 48 hours, he managed to find that needle in the NY haystack – one of Hayton’s friend’s sent him a photo of her and Moburg posted this message on his site: “Found Her! Seriously!". The girl with the flower in her hair agreed to meet the ‘smitten one’ and they hit it off. A flurry of interviews and international media attention followed the pair but Moburg says they’re now pulling down the shutters and we'll have to make up our own ending to the story.

My ending goes like this: And they fell in love and lived - in material poverty but rich in desire - in a bohemian NY apartment, thriving on passion and care for the rest of their long lives. The man I live with, on the otherhand, is determined to burst my romantic bubble. He responded to my reiteration of this tale thus (tongue partly in cheek): “He’s a web designer – this was probably some scam to boost his profile…look at all the hits his site is getting!” And I can hear other romance-deniers saying “Yeah and she’s a journalist in training – probably trying to take a shortcut to fame and fortune”. Cynics, all of you!

Maybe I’m a female cliché but I love romance, damn it! Spontaneity, poetry, flowers, risk-taking behaviour, making love on the river bank under the full moon – bring it on, baby! So, I choose to believe my ending to the story. What ending would you write?

UPDATE: Attention cynics - it's not just me! The world's gone nuts for this story. See The Age article on the blogosphere reaction.
   [read more]