Haunted

One of the movies I decided I absolutely had to see as a child was Ghost. Unlike most everyone else my age, I didn't have a crush on Patrick Swayze. (I couldn't bring myself to ask my mother's permission to see Dirty Dancing as I was sure lots of really awkward pauses and questions like "Why do you think boys would want to dance like that?" would ensue, so I didn't see that movie until high school.) It was something about the storyline and the relationship between the two main characters in Ghost that did a real number on my little girl notion of romance and love.

Since the movie was rated PG-13 (and, perhaps more importantly, since I didn't have a car or money), I clearly had to ask my mother's permission on this one, too, but I was willing to risk it over Ghost like I hadn't been over Dirty Dancing. After all, I was an incredibly mature ten-year-old this time around (and Ghost had a far more innocuous title.)

Despite her reservations about a certain well-known (and pictured) scene -- how do mothers know about these things without having seen the movie? -- she consented.

I could barely take the excitement of waiting to see Ghost. I even prepared to cry because I was sure that crying at sad, doomed love stories was a very adult thing to do. Waiting for my trip to the Friday afternoon matinee screening seemed an eternity.

For the most part, the movie was all that I hoped it would be. There were funny parts, and sad parts, and Demi Moore's character wore some knit jumpsuits I totally wanted to emulate in my own wardrobe. But, for as much as I enjoyed the film, there was a scene that bugged me even in my preteen days.

As everybody knows, Patrick Swayze's character Sam never tells his girlfriend how much he loves her. Instead, every time she says that she loves him, he just says, "Ditto." Then, in the final moments of the film, just as Sam is about to head off into the afterlife and all of the rules of life and death are askew so that he and his soul mate can have one last moment together proving that love can be immortal and true love can make miracles, he says to Demi, "I love you."

She answers, "Ditto."

Now, I get that this is the cute answer. I also get that this brings certain elements of the movie full circle. But, it still seems to me that the last time you get to see  someone, especially if that moment comes at the cost of all you've come to accept about mortality and the laws of the universe, is not the time to be cutesy.

Is her answer a tad witty? Sure. Funny? A bit. What you should say knowing you'll never, ever be able to lay eyes on your beloved again? Probably not. Just say "I love you" and skip the jokes, Demi. I kind of imagine a higher power smacking his or her head in disgust that of all the people on earth, you're the one they bent the rules of the time-space continuum for.

Of course, I still cried, but it has bugged me ever since. And God forbid I let something like this go after a mere 19 years.