As a starry-eyed 9-year-old in 1970, I still remember the flurry of excitement from several of my teenage aunties over the film Love Story, starring Ryan O’Neal and Ali MacGraw. It’s long been heralded as one of the great cinematic romances, and I’ll admit—I still find myself unwittingly watching it on those lazy, “wear-my-pjs-all-day” afternoons. There’s a famous line in the movie: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry,” which I want to address.
Although Love Story is the kind of film that wraps you in the beauty of young love, grand gestures, and aching loss, and you get swept up in Oliver and Jenny’s world—two people from different backgrounds, falling deeply in love and determined to make it work, no matter the odds, let’s be honest: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry is complete and utter nonsense!
In real life, love means having to say you’re sorry. Often more than once.
Sometimes that means with your whole heart cracked wide open on the table. Real love—lasting, grounded, alive—isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a practice. One that asks us to show up, take responsibility, and get uncomfortable if we want to grow.
I work with couples who are done pretending everything’s fine. Maybe once they were chasing the highlight-reel version of romance, but now—they want the real thing. They’re tired of the same hurtful conversations that lead nowhere. Tired of the old wounds that never seem to heal. Tired of the distance. What they want isn’t perfection—it’s connection. A way back to each other, with honesty, grace, and yes… plenty of apologies along the way.
Here’s the truth: if you’re both willing, there is a way back. I’ve seen couples on the brink—detached, exhausted, bitter—find their way to something stronger than what they had before. But it doesn’t happen by chance. It happens when both people—and I mean both—are ready to stop blaming, start listening, and lean into who they need to become to love more fully.
Sometimes that means unlearning patterns you’ve carried for decades. Sometimes it means softening when you’d rather shut down. Sometimes it means owning your role in the hurt—even when it’s easier to defend your position or flip the script back onto your partner.
But the payoff? It’s big. Real love that feels safe, seen, and alive again. Communication that builds rather than breaks. A relationship that doesn’t just survive—but evolves.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “Maybe we could still find our way back…” don’t wait until the path closes in.
Like this article? Check out “Is My Marriage Over? The Quiet Signs It Might Be”
