Happily ever after? Maybe
THERE’S been some horrible news in the world lately.
Trump, murders, Trump, football, Trump, more #metoo moments and Trump.
But there’s one literally breaking story that’s broken me - Sam Cochrane and Tara Pavlovic from Bachelor in Paradise have broken up.
I know! I’m so lame. Why do I care?
Well, it’s just that they were a happy ending (no, not that kind) in an otherwise depressing cycle both in reality and reality television.
We fell in love with them falling in love. They were goofy and cute and made us realise that a Trump combover is not always evil.
But the one silver lining (other than perhaps Sam will fall in love with a hairdresser or a rep from Advanced Hair, yeah yeah) is acknowledging their strength in calling a wrap on their love production.
Breaking up is hard to do. Breaking up in public? Well, I can’t even imagine.
I’m a horrible breakerupper. As an eternal optimist I hate to admit when things are less than perfect. See? I can’t even type “bad’’.
As a serial monogamist (until marriage anyway when I became simply celibate - just kidding, birthdays are there for a reason), I struggled to end things because I hated to hurt anyone.
And it’s not just people either.
There was a time when I couldn’t wait to break up with the Gold Coast.
My relationship with this city came courtesy of an arranged marriage of sorts in 1991. My parents wanted to move here from the US, and at the tender age of 15 I was considered collateral damage.
I promised myself the moment that I could run, I would.
But life kept getting in the way. First a scholarship to university here, then a relationship that turned into an actual marriage. My husband and I did make a break to London for a few years and that’s when I first started realising that I had grown real feelings for my seaside city.
I would dream of sunshine and smiling faces.
It was like Stockholm Syndrome – but the Gold Coast. It was Southport Syndrome. Although I think that’s an actual disease you can catch from the public toilets around the CBD.
I began to negotiate an uneasy truce with this town. And life kept happening. We had our children, we bought property, our careers progressed. And I was ... happy.
But still, I needed to know whether my first love was my true love.
So two years ago we took our children to live in Texas for seven months. We all loved it, but I found myself dreaming of real coffee and beach walks and Pacific Fair.
Suddenly, there was no place like home. And strangely, after 27 years, home was the Gold Coast.
Now I look at all that happens here, from the amazing cafes to the loopy Logies to the new improved HOTA and even the outrageous, often frightening news and crime that occurs. I can’t help it, I love it all. It is a golden age.
I always wanted to live in New York City, somewhere that was the centre of all that was important in the world. Back in 1991, the Coast felt like the farthest thing from it. In fact, I’m pretty sure E.T. had just premiered at the Mermaid cinemas. But now, it feels like anything exciting, dynamic or dramatic is happening here. And all America has is Trump.
Until my old love breaks up with him, I guess we’re officially over. It’s time to stay true to my town.
As for Sam and Tara, well, there’s plenty more singles on the GC – and there’s always the American Bachelor.
IT’S JUST THAT THEY WERE A HAPPY ENDING (NO, NOT THAT KIND) IN AN OTHERWISE DEPRESSING CYCLE BOTH IN REALITY AND REALITY TELEVISION.
Read Ann Wason Moore every Tuesday and Saturday in the Bulletin