All's Well That Ends Well

The year is 1978. It could be any year, really. But this is a true story.

So it's 1978, a generally free and open time in American culture and sex. R-rated movies have lots of bare breasts, shorts are short, tube socks tall, and bangs feathered. The Farrah Fawcett bra-less look is mainstream. Disco is the current thing, but there's also rock on the radio--the great classics of rock that would define the generation: Zeplin, Aerosmith, Queen, Kiss and Quiet Riot. And there's the beginnings of New Wave coming up and the very first albums from some bands like: Talking Heads, the Cars, Blondie.

Even though half of the cars sold in the US are from Japan, the Trans Am is king. And gas is less than a dollar a gallon.

There is a shit ton of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Man, it's a wild time.

Jim's a young man, coming into the world and his own sexual coming of age. He's had a wild relationship with a woman who schooled him in the ways of sex. But that was before he met R---.

When he met R, he knew she was the one. Perhaps that's why it stung so much when--a few months into their relationship--he found a bunch of photos taken of her by one of her ex-boyfriends. They were all PG--that wasn't the issue. And Jim had certainly had relationships before R--that wasn't it. But still... knowing that she shared private, intimate moments before him just made him... well, just feel a little hurt. It wasn't logical, of course. The heart never is.

So Jim decided to get his camera equipment.

He and R jumped in his '73 Monte Carlo and headed out. Cranking up Zeppelin on the 8-track, they went to various parks and rural spots. And took a few of their own photos.

As the day got hotter, so did the photos.

By the end, they had a new collection of private photos just for them.

He and R have been married 35 years and counting. He was right. She was the one.