Sunday 8 January 2012


It was in the news this past week that a woman, Julia Cross, a PR consultant from London, who had vacationed in Ibiza with friends a few months back was in a mad quest to track down a man that she had kissed in a nightclub. Basically, she went out clubbing one night, met a guy that she shared a kiss with, and decided thereafter that he was the one, or at least had potential to be the one because of this very 'magical' moment that they shared. [Talk about having low expectations or lofty dreams of grandeur – I’m not sure which]. She then set herself on a course using her PR wiles and every available social networking site in hopes of tracking this man down to see if this one kiss meant something more. (Unless he chased you to the airport, I’m thinking the answer is no). Clearly this woman had a lot of time on her hands.

Apparently the story goes that the two of them shared a kiss as the sun came up – awwww, how adorable; I'm assuming they were also covered in foam – but lost contact because she mistakenly gave him the wrong phone number. [Either she just got a new phone and was not a whiz with numbers, or something deep in her gut told her that this mystery man should remain just that]. But of course she ignored her gut – as many women do– and used the information she did have, his name was Martin and he was a software developer from North London, and set her friends and colleagues on a hunt for this individual for months. On Facebook they even posted such headlines as ‘Please help us reunite Martin and Julia!’ like they were long lost lovers separated by a tumultuous war. The story even got caught fire in the international press, and everyone was hoping for a happy ending (seriously, are you people nuts? Or have you simply seen Pretty Woman far too many times. She was a hooker, alright, it's never going to happen!).

From where I come from this kind of behavior is defined as being a stalker. Sorry, I am just of the ilk that one kiss in a club does not maketh a relationship. The irony is, when Julia did finally find her mystery man, you guessed it, he had a girlfriend....a girlfriend I am thinking was none too pleased that he was kissing some other woman in a club in Ibiza. Martin finally came out of the woodwork the other day and revealed himself as a taken man dashing the dreams of poor, hopeful Julia (yes, that’s sarcasm people). He claims he and his girlfriend got back together after the holiday to Ibiza – and I have a very nice piece of beachfront property to sell you – but he was very flattered by Julia’s quest to find him. More succinctly, 'this chick is nuts, and yes I’m taken cause I have no plans to take this stalker out on a date.'

Okay, before you all lambaste me with protestations that I’m too jaded, I’m not so jaded that I don’t believe in one chance meetings where stars align and it feels like you’ve known this person forever. Yes, I’ve experienced it, but no, I’m not with any of those individuals where we shared a magical moment. That should tell you something. But from my experience, meeting a man when you’re drunk in a club in the middle of the biggest meat market in the world, and this said man’s Facebook page is rife with scantily clad women hanging off him like cheap suits, screams, I don’t know, that you’re barking up the wrong romantic tree. 

But then again, what the hell do I know? I think that's how Prince William met his wife and look how good they turned out. :-)

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