The Miseducation of Dorothy Zbornak

A thought I had last night:

Have cell phones ruined the romantic gesture?

See, I caved last night. In my state of utter loneliness and boredom during this sabbatical in Michigan, I watched 'The Notebook'. (I did so under the condition that I would not [would NOT, damn it!] get all weepy and nostalgic, which I actually succeeded at.) I switched the channel when it got to the part when they are old at the end, duh, because that part is boring and doesn't have Ryan Gosling in it, and reflected on the movie.

If Allie and Noah had cell phones, the story would not have happened. I mean, I know it didn't actually 'happen' at all, but bear with me. The whole premise of the movie hangs on the plot point of Allie's mom intercepting all of the letters that Noah sent to her after their lovely summer together. They reunite, like, 7 years later, have mind-blowing sex, and then end up together.

Had this story taken place in 2009, Noah and Allie would have texted, facebook messaged, and contacted each other in countless other ways, thus negating their extended period of separation and, probably, their mind-blowing sex that resolved all of their pent up feelings for each other.

The same goes for so many other great love stories!

*Lloyd Dobler would never have held up that boombox. He would have im'ed Diane and sent her a compressed mp# of "In Your Eyes" or something like that.

*Ben Braddock wouldn't have spent so much time searching for Elaine on the campus of her school in "The Graduate" - he would have just called her cell and asked her where she was. (Yeah, "The Graduate" isn't really a great example of a love story, I know.)

I'm spent quite some time building up my tough girl image, sarcastic and unmoved by anything at all. But - here's a secret. I'm a sap. A huge sap. A serious closet romantic, to the nth degree. Where my friends gag and decry their disapproval for overtly romantic gestures and our young friends that are head-over-heels-talking-about-getting-married in love, I quietly melt.

But I've got an image to protect. I'm the tall, mostly awkward, slighty embittered one. Think Dorothy Zbornak (yes, of "The Golden Girls") at 23.

So, does our technology and our tendency to employ any number of communication veins in favor of actual, face to face connection mean that no one will ever hop on a plane to follow me, or play a song outside my window, or spend years wishing they could just talk to me?

Not that I, you know, would want any of those things. Because that would be silly and so, so lame.

PS - I hope I never get so bored/stir-crazy again that I spend time actually analyzing the meaning of "The Notebook." Oh, it's a new low.