Kalah Allen

You came over and I insisted we watch Point Break. You hated it. I couldn't fathom why anyone would hate such a masterpiece—and that's when I knew it would never work out between us. The flow, the feel, the formula of this movie is beyond reproach. How can you not like it, I asked. Timid in your answer, you said, "I just didn't get it." DIDN'T GET IT? What. The. Fuck?!

Who doesn't get perfection? Who doesn't get the struggle between right and wrong? Good and evil? Heterosexuality and homosexuality? Who the fuck doesn't get these battles that humans have struggled with since we crawled our way out of the primordial muck? Johnny Utah and Bodhi get this shit, man. (Okay, we had sex after the movie and it was good, but that doesn't mean anything to me. It was really just the bourbon talking.) I can never ever see you again because you just don't get it. I mean, yeah, you had a nice package, but how dare you insult and tarnish the good name of Point Break, you fool.—Anonymous