My inbox has been full lately. Notes from strangers, Bravo junkies, acquaintances, people I haven’t spoken to in years — all asking some version of the same question about Ryan Murphy’s Love Story. Will I watch it? Did it happen that way? They’re kind messages, nearly apologetic, as if they know they’re stepping into something deeply personal but just can’t help themselves. John and Carolyn still do that to people. Twenty-six years passed, but they are still present everywhere, as though they were never really allowed to move into the past. Still young. Still beautiful.
Podcasters and writers and editors reached out, each hoping I could confirm or correct what they were about to believe. The asks are usually the same: what were they really like? what is the truth? how are they different from how they’ve been portrayed. As interest grew, so did the requests — as if my being so close to them, meant I could explain it forever. For a while, I believed I could.
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