When the film Love Story came out in 1970, I was around twelve years old. As a tom boy everything in the film repelled me. My nemesis and best friend Lynn looked just like that annoying woman Ali MacGraw,
“Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” PLEASE??!!
The guys followed Lynn around like puppy dogs and the time we use to have, playing football and baseball on the golf course hole near her home, ended. All the guys who I use to play with started talking about the film. The naked scenes especially. Just like the pages form the first Godfather book. Everyone was reading the page where Sonny screwed some lady before his wedding. I felt just like Betty White, when the character Rose form the Golden Girls said, that sex;
“Was some colossal joke.”
I had it down. Life was about running as fast as you could, sliding down hills on cardboard, and having dirt fights with massive weeds. It was about hating school, and all of your teachers, and only enjoying kickball. My prime objective of,
“Never stop running as fast you can,” imploded when puberty hit. I blame the whole darn thing on the film Love Story.
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