“Love Story” by Melusine

Okay, so not many would consider this kind of romantic swill to be in the “classic” vein — but as trashy novels go — it is. Also, in reviewing the book Love Story, I picture in mind’s-eye that fabulously tear-jerk-off marathon of a movie (other people’s tears, apparently, because I laughed all the way through this sappy piece o’crap), starring Ali McGraw, Ryan O’Neil (in the two main roles, of course) and, bemusedly, Ray Milland AND Tommy Lee Jones. So anyway, here’s my Digested Version of “Love Story.” —Melusine de Nuit

Oliver Barrett IV: God I love Harvard. God I love hockey. I’m such an intellectual stud-boy. Hey, who’s that cute chick over there? She seems classy yet slutty in a girl-next-door sort of a way.

Jennifer Cavilerri: God I’m pretty. God I’m smart. Hey, I’m pretty smart. Who’s that intellectual stud over there? He must be from Harvard. I bet he’s a hockey player too.

(They meet. They go out. They fall in love. They want to get married, but like in the traditional Romeo and Juliet fashion, there are familial issues.)

Oliver’s Dad: You’re not going to marry that Radcliffe slut. I don’t care if she is into music and smart. Can’t you fall in love with someone in your own socio-economic bracket?

Oliver: But I love her. I love her a lot. I love her so much it makes my balls ache. I can’t live without her.

Oliver’s Dad: If you marry her, you’re out of the will. You’ll be poor. See how much you love her when you have to work for a living, young man.

Jennifer: I love you so much. I am so in love with you. I don’t care if we’re poor. We can make it if we try.

Oliver: God I love you too. I am so in love with you. I don’t care if we are poor. Our love will see us through.

(Time passes. They experience the typical maudlin/euphoric ups and downs of run-of-the-mill marriages that run-of-the-mill people indulge themselves in. Jennifer decides to try and reunite father and son, the giving, loving, fabulous girl that she is. It doesn’t work. The guys fucking hate each other and the like it that way.)

Jennifer: God you really hate your dad, don’t you? But you love me. And I love you. God I am so in love with you. Do you want to have kids now?

Oliver: May dad is a prick. He should not have disinherited me just because I fell in love with someone like you. I am so in love with you. Let’s have kids now, ‘kay?

(They really want kids. By-products of their intensely moving love for each other — that Breeding Urge that seems to inflict all those who should not have kids. They discover that they are unable to have children. Something is very wrong with Jennifer…)

Jennifer: FUCK. I have cancer. I’m going to die soon. I love you so much. But I’m going to have to die loving you. And with no kids too.

Oliver: FUCK. I can’t believe you have cancer and are going to die soon. I thought love was supposed to heal, not hurt. Fuck. And I won’t even have kids to remember you by. Fuck. I am so in love with you but what the fuck does it matter now, I-Have-Cancer-Girl?

Jennifer: FUCK. Here I go — (she dies).

Oliver: (crying, because he’s a sensitive and loving intellectual stud-boy) FUCK. She’s dead. I loved her so much. But at least she taught me the most important lesson of a lifetime: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Fuck.

(She dies. Oliver is sad.)


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