November 4
Recently I saw a clip from the movie “A Street
Car Named Desire” where Marlon Brando goes
out in the middle of the night over to the home of
a girl he’s passionately crushing over (in love)
and he starts yelling outside beneath her
window calling her name. I never understood
before what that was all about . . . until I met you.
Sometimes I feel I absolutely must see you; I
must be with you, talk with you, hold you – kiss
you – just you and I together alone. And yet I
know that these feelings must be a two-way
street where you want the same thing with me
too.
I also don’t want to disrespect you by pushing
temptation on you to do what we believe in our
God loving hearts to be wrong. And, of course,
you still don’t even know who I am because I
don’t have the guts to tell you yet. So I just
wanted to tell you that after seeing that movie
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scene again, “I get it. I really get it now.”
But don’t worry. I’m controlling my thoughts. I’m
doing all that I can to resist having a “Street Car”
moment so I don’t freak out you and your
parents in the middle of the night simply
because you are so gorgeously beautiful.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
…I’m being careful to avoid the thorny paths of
lust
Fearing to awaken within you
The lion that slumbers in your soul…
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NOVEMBER 5
YOU:
SO YOU SAY SOMEONE HAS BEEN PUTTING
SECRET NOTES IN YOUR LOCKER LATELY AND
YOU’RE WONDERING IF I MIGHT KNOW WHO THE
PERSON IS THAT KEEPS DOING IT. THAT’S A
GOOD QUESTION.
ARE THEY CREEPY NOTES? ARE THEY
HANDWRITTEN? OR ARE THEY TYPED AND
PRINTED? ARE THEY PLEASANT NOTES? DO THEY
EVER MENTION COWS? DO THEY EVER MENTION
HULA HOOPS? DO THEY EVER MENTION SINGING?
DO THEY EVER MENTION COWS THAT ARE DOING
HULA HOOPS AND SINGING?
I’M SORRY. I’M NOT TRYING TO MAKE FUN OF
YOU. REALLY. THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION
IS TO KNOW IF ANY OF THESE NOTES ARE
CREEPING YOU OUT BECAUSE THEN I’LL HAVE TO
FIND OUT WHO IT IS AND KICK HIS A _ _. BUT IF
THEY DON’T CREEP YOU OUT, DEPENDING UPON
WHAT THESE NOTES SAY, I MIGHT JUST BE
TEMPTED TO KICK HIM IN HIS BUTT ANYWAY –
PERHAPS WHILE HE’S LOOKING IN THE MIRROR SO
HE CAN SEE ME KICK HIM IN HIS BUTT.
SO LET ME KNOW A LITTLE MORE ABOUT THE
ACTUAL NOTES THEMSELVES AND WHAT YOUR
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INTUITION TELLS YOU IS GOING ON AND THAT MAY
HELP ME TO GET YOU AN ANSWER MORE
QUICKLY. (AND HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE AN
ACCURATE ANSWER – AND ONE THAT YOU LIKE.)
IT’S GREAT TO SEE YOU AT SCHOOL TODAY! (NOT
THAT IT WASN’T BEFORE. IT’S ALWAYS GREAT TO
SEE YOU AT SCHOOL. SO DON’T THINK IT’S EVER
NOT BEEN GREAT TO SEE YOU. BECAUSE IF I
EVER GAVE YOU THE IMPRESSION THAT MAYBE IT
HASN’T BEEN GREAT TO SEE YOU THEN THAT
SIMPLY WOULDN’T BE TRUE. I MEAN, MAYBE YOU
MAY HAVE THOUGHT THAT I GAVE YOU SUCH AN
IMPRESSION BUT IF I DID I CERTAINLY NEVER
INTENDED TO BECAUSE IT’S ALWAYS GREAT TO
SEE YOU. OKAY. NOW I’M RAMBLING. TIME TO
GO.)
LATER!
ME
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NOVEMBER 12
YOU:
AFTER THINKING A LOT AND DOING MY OWN
SPECIAL INVESTIGATING I THINK I MAY KNOW WHO
THE GUY IS THAT IS PUTTING THESE MESSAGES IN
YOUR LOCKER. BUT THERE’S A PROBLEM. HE
ISN’T READY FOR YOU TO KNOW WHO HE IS. AND
SINCE YOU SAY THEY ARE ALL PLEASANT NOTES
AND YOU DON’T SEE ANY OF THEM AS “CREEPY”
PER SAY, THEN I THINK I SHOULD RESPECT HIS
PRIVACY BY NOT TELLING YOU WHO I THINK IT IS
AND WHEN HE’S READY TO TELL YOU THEN HE’LL
TELL YOU.
YOU ALSO SAID YOU JUST WANTED TO KNOW, IF
WE COULDN’T FIGURE IT OUT YET, IF HE’S AN
UGLY GUY OR SOMEONE THAT MIGHT BE CREEPY
EVEN THOUGH NOTHING HE’S WRITTEN IS CREEPY
YET. SO THIS MUCH I WILL SAY: IF IT’S THE GUY
THAT I THINK IT IS (AND I’M PRETTY SURE IT IS)
THEN I CAN TELL YOU THAT A LOT OF GIRLS LIKE
HIM SO AT LEAST HE’S NOT EXACTLY
“UNATTRACTIVE.”
AS FAR AS WHETHER OR NOT HE’S CREEPY
PERSONALITY-WISE I THINK HE’S A PRETTY GOOD
GUY. HE’S A GOD-LOVING CHRISTIAN. THAT
MUCH I KNOW. HE EVEN LIKES THE FINE ART
PHOTOGRAPHIC WORKS OF EVERETT STALEY –
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JUST LIKE YOU. (I CHECKED OUT
THEARTISTDUDE.COM AND THERE’S SOME COOL
STUFF THERE. YOU’RE RIGHT. STALEY HAS HIGH
QUALITY ART AND I HEARD HE HAS HIGH MORALS
TOO.)
BUT IF YOU DECIDE YOU DON’T WANT ANY MORE
SECRET ADMIRER NOTES THEN I CAN PASS THAT
MESSAGE ALONG TO HIM AND THEN YOU JUST
TELL ME IF YOU STILL GET MORE NOTES ANYWAY
BECAUSE IF YOU DO THEN I’VE GOT THE WRONG
GUY AND I NEED TO FIND THE RIGHT ONE AND GO
KICK HIM IN THE BUTT (IN FRONT OF A MIRROR,
OF COURSE).
SHALL WE SIT TOGETHER AGAIN AT LUNCH
TODAY? HOPEFULLY I’LL SEE YOU THEN!
LATER!
ME
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[4th anonymous note put in your locker.]
November 22
Has anyone driven over to your home in the
middle of the night and gone beneath your
window calling out your name? Because if they
did, just so you know, I didn’t do it. (You see I
told you I could control myself.) That certainly
isn’t to say that you are any less beautiful but
only that I see you as so incredibly beautiful that
I can control those “Street Car” desires so far.
But if for some reason that changes then you’ll
know because I’ll be outside your window in the
middle of the night calling your name probably
only to find that the next thing you see is the
police quickly pulling up with red and blue lights
flashing and sirens blaring as they quickly haul
me away in handcuffs because I’m disturbing
the peace (and breaking curfew).
For some reason that image of me being hauled
away while calling out your name isn’t very
romantic. Maybe you’ll agree. So I’m pretty sure
I won’t be doing that anytime soon.
I might, however, sing you a song about
butterflies, hula hoops and butter and maple
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syrup covered pancakes under a canopy of stars
– with your parents consent, of course. (Not that
the butterflies and hula hoops would be actually
on the pancakes because obviously nobody eats
butterflies or hula hoops but they would be just
on the side, you know, like entertainment. . . or
ambiance. . . like the stars . . . never mind.)
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
P.S. Have a Happy Thanksgiving! (And if
anyone serves you butterflies or hula hoops just
tell them they’ve got it wrong because they’re for
ambiance…not for eating but ambiance. . . like
candles at dinner… or like the stars out at
night… with a date outside at night… and I’m not
talking about the kind of date that you eat
because that’s the wrong kind of date. . . that
would be cannibalism and that’s not what I’m
talking about. I’m talking about romantic dates
not creepy eating your dates.
So don’t think I’m trying to refer to you like you’re a
fig because I’m not. Of course, that’s not to say that
you’re not sweet because… OK. . . (awkward). . .
this is not where I had planned this note to be going.
I’m just going to have mercy and stop typing now.
Although I’m not sure who needs that mercy more now
among the two of us.)
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P.P.S. Just run away! Save yourself! Don’t worry
about me. I’m a natural disaster of pathetic
humor. Go! . . . Save yourself! . . . Hurry! And
don’t look back! (Unless of course you smell a
jelly donut and then you can. I know I would. I
mean, who wouldn’t?)
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