Too Much of a Good Thing

This is the top of a small votive that is/was my sister Joyce's. If she wanted it back I wouldn't give it to her. I have coveted it since about 1975 when she moved out of the house. It is all still intact and the candle still has a slight scent of bayberry. As you can see it says "Love means never having to say you're sorry". The catch phrase from Love Story. When I was about 9 years old, circa 1971, another of my sisters, Kristy, took me along for the ride to the neighboring town of Glenwood City to see Love Story. My impression of the film was that Ali MacGraw had a dirty mouth. She said "bullshit" alot. I thought she was real groovy and pretty. I think her dirty mouth made her prettier to me. Ryan O'Neal was real groovy too. I wanted to dress like him. I thought he was real pretty too. He reminded me of the lifeguard Jeff at the local pool and so whenever I was at the pool I envisioned Jeff as Ryan and sort of developed a quasi crush, idolizing, I want to be just like him sort of thing about Jeff the lifeguard. It was all so sexy sexy sexy.
It seemed to me that Ali and Ryan's characters, Jenny and Oliver, were having sex all the time. For me, the two of them just laying on a couch studying, seemed like sexual intercourse, whatever that was. I definitely did not know what sexual intercourse was at the time, but without question, it involved the belly button.
When Jenny got sick and died I was certain that she died because they were having too much sex. Oliver Barrett III did her in but good, I thought. Too much screwing will do that. Too much intercourse will kill you. There are consequences to feeling too good. The scandinavian midwestern protestant upbringing was leaving it's mark even at 9. This movie was about as good as my brother Steve's stash of Playboy magazines. Boneroo!
When I watch the movie now I understand my goofy reasoning. There really isn't much mention of what Jenny's illness is. There may be something about her blood mentioned but not much more. Oliver visits the doctor. He goes there with the intention of finding out why Jenny wasn't getting pregnant, see, see, they are trying to make a baby, that means sex, and the doctor spills the bad news of her condition to Oliver first, like he is to blame. I can see my 9 year old brain not navigating all this heaviness and following the quick to change story line considering that I had probably been sitting in the theatre for about an hour and a half horned out of my gourd by all this lasciviousness and then she gets sick and dies. Huh?
I have no recollection that Kristy and I discussed the film on the way home, maybe only her telling me that I didn't need to tattle to Mom about the profanity. Mom wouldn't have been happy about that. As for the sex angle, Kristy probably thought that went over my head and I guess it did but in a kooky mixed up illogical sort of way. Or is it?
Of course it had to be all the sex that killed her but she didn't need to be sorry cuz love means never having to say you're sorry.
That saying is about as silly as my 9 year old rationale.