It was the summer, after my freshman year in high school, that a group of girls thought it would be fun to spend one of the last waning days of summer at Six Flags amusement park. Fearing that one of us could get separated or lost, we all decided as geeky as it was, to wear our school gym shirt, because they were purple and had our school name plastered on the front. We knew we’d stand out in a crowd and find each other if one of us happened to get lost.

I don’t remember much from that day, to be honest, except that we saw some cute guys, and rode on the American Eagle roller coaster with them over and over again. One of them was really sweet and took to me, but at that age, without a car or a driver’s license, you just parted ways and said goodbye. We simply shared a few laughs and shrills.

Read moreFast forward two or three months later: I was sitting in class, my sophomore year, and a staff member from the principal’s office interrupted the lecture. She asked if I could be excused. Friends had been alerting me that all the girls in the school with my first name were being taken to the principal’s office. At first I thought it was a joke. Now I knew better.

I specifically remember this woman, who was escorting me to the principal’s office, looked at me notably strangely.

I was completely perplexed. What was this about? Did another person with my name do something wrong, and I was going to get the blame? I had to admit that I was on edge. I was never called to the principal’s office before.

As we walked down the hall toward the office, she said to me, “Did you go to Six Flags this summer?”

Thinking that was odd, I said, “Yes, why?”

“Did you meet anyone there, while you were there?” she continued to question me.

I thought for a minute, “Yes. We met a couple of people from another school who were our age.”

“Do you remember their names?” she inquired.

“No, not really. I think one guy’s name was Mark. Why?” I questioned her again. We arrived at the office.

As we walked in the door of the office, there was a group of staff staring at me–five or six women and a couple of men whose eyes were fixated on me. They were looking at me intently. I couldn’t help but feel like I was under the microscope. I felt really awkward. I couldn’t figure out what this was about. Was I in trouble? For something I did over the summer? That would be crazy. What was going on?

The lady who walked me to the office said, “I think we found our girl!”

I was even more intrigued.

“Well”, said the principal, “we got this letter in the mail from a guy who says he met an ‘Eyes for Lies’ (of course, not my real name), that he borrowed money from her, and he really wanted to contact her so he could pay her back. Here is the letter. It is quite long and involved. He wrote it to my office, and ask that we assist him in locating you. He’s quite an interesting fella.”

The letter was two full pages from a spiral-ring notebook.

I sat there in disbelief as Dan’s photo fell out of the envelope. I remembered his name by this point, but the funny thing was, he didn’t borrow any money from me. That was an outright lie.

I spoke up, “This is so strange, because I didn’t lend him any money.”

I couldn’t help but be flattered when I read the letter, by the way it was written. So painstakingly neat, and with care and thought. Clearly this guy had a crush on me, and wouldn’t let it go. I had no idea.

I couldn’t believe this stranger went through so much effort to contact me again. The ladies giggled, and one said, “I think he has a huge crush on you!”

Another joined in, “Look at how much effort he went through to find you!”

“Are you going to contact him?” asked another.

I must have turned beet red. Before I answered, another one spoke. “Yes, it is funny,” said a lady with red hair. “We’ve been talking to all the girls with your name in the school, and none of them related to the details he gave until we found you. You were the last one out of five girls, and of course, you were the right one. For a little while there, we thought maybe he had written the wrong school.”

For days after that, the staff all looked at me as I walked by. You could almost hear them thinking, “Is she the girl who got that romantic love note?” You could feel the walls chattering behind me.

All the girls who shared my first name asked me what all the fuss was about, because they were not privy to why they were questioned by the principal’s staff.

The teachers, as well as my friends, were all in disbelief that a guy could have such a crush on me that he would go through all this effort to locate me. They teased me that I was one lucky girl!!

Dan and I exchanged a few letters, and chatted on the phone once, but I had lost interest. Living some 20 miles a part, at that age, was just too much distance to surmount, and he sounded too monotone on the phone for me. But I must say, it was one of the most flattering lies I was ever told.

This all came back to my mind, this week, because my mom found Dan’s photo in my collection of things stacked away in the basement, and happened to put it into a photo album, not knowing who he was. All the memories came flooding back when I was flipping through the album and she asked, “Who is that?” When I told her, she instantly remembered that flattering lie.

I wonder what Dan is like today. Is he a charming, assertive and successful man, or is he someone who stalks people and has intense, inappropriate crushes? I shudder at the thought.