Bittersweet Stories

Love.StoryIn a nutshell: I hate them.  I really, really hate them.

When I was in middle school, Titanic came out.  A classmate came in one day and raved about it: “Oh my God, I’ve seen it like four times already, and it’s sooooooo good.”  Why, says I?  He dies.  A lot of people die.  It’s four hours long.  What’s the point?  She looked at me, shocked.  “It’s for the romance.”  But so many people suffer, I said.  “Yeah, that’s the point.”

Clearly, I didn’t get it.  I have seen Titanic and I still don’t get it (no offense, Leo, but you never did it for me), but it’s the heart-wringing and tear-shedding and nose-honking and mucous-dripping that I can’t stand.  I mean, why put yourself through all of that when it doesn’t even end happily?

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