I've watched the final moments of The Bachelor: Paris finale a handful of times now and it's not getting any easier for me. I am astonished at my own entanglement with the show — with Travis' calming alchemy — and, especially, with the stormy, transformed Moana. There have been Seasons when I hardly took notice of the aftershocks of jilted Bachelorettes streaming away in their dimly lit limos. Presently, however, I am remain somewhat taken aback and saddened that Moana Dixon's heart was railroaded and the poor woman was left virtually rudderless upon her raging sea.

By David W. Taylor (Email The Author)
Reality Reel Media
03.03.06

My deep feeling is that Travis Stork, the man, affected Moana exorbitantly. To her core (as Moana would put it). Much more intrinsically — primitively — than Sarah was ever touched. And believing that, in the end, a girl like Moana needed a guy like Travis a whole lot more than a gal like Sarah. After climbing into her last Paris limo, Moana mournfully stated, "Guys like that don't marry girls like me." And that was saying a mouthful.

Moana was blemished, and she knew it well. Her moodiness, her aloofness, her tendency to steal away from others to seek a quiet solace is a product of some quirkish fissure in her personal growth — a gap that Sarah was lucky enough to escape in her own life. Not that Sarah's life was necessarily perfect, mind you, but she exuded happiness and a certain untarnished felicity that Moana can only project intermittently, and always with a certain suspicion.

Of course, I know not where this springs from. I don't know Moana. I only know her and Sarah and the rest from what I saw evolving weekly on The Bachelor: Paris. There we saw Sarah giggling and her tiny students wrapped around her legs; and we saw the grainy home video and the snapshots of the avidly supported and loved child and teenager who later blossomed into the supportingly and loving adult woman — this sunny kindergarten teacher — who can give Travis his home soil grounding. Yes, this sparkling woman is pure Americana — a vague declaration of that bounding, effervescent, can-do spirit that has driven so much in this driven country.

Chris Harrison told us that "Sarah grew up in Jackson, Tennessee, as the perfect, All-American, girl next door..." Sarah said of herself: "We kinda come from that typical family... my parents are still married, I was a cheerleader, I ran track; I also did theatre and more singing in high school as well..." So, she knew family and happiness and was encouraged to grow personally. Probably much like Travis Stork. There was no other reason that Travis would call Sarah his "rock" among his distractions in Paris. They grew from the same earth.

Yet there is another typical American family and typically the outcrop is someone like Moana. One only has to remember Moana's father, Ray, constantly battering Travis over a Christianity confession to maybe get an idea of the strict stifling humorless grind that she had to endure — that eventually tweaked Moana with a weak strain of sadness and doubt, and perhaps some anger.

We didn't see any photos of Moana twirling a baton or being awarded a debating medal. That part of her life remained hidden. Moana was probably just partying and dating. Rebelling against her irritable parents. Meandering her time with the endless line of horny males hulking about her... not a Travis among them... finally coming to Paris after "a life spent afraid of making mistakes, a life not worth living..." Ironically while the same night Sarah freely admits to Travis that there was a "friendship first" motif to all her relationships. These two were like night and day.