I am not a sentimental girl. In fact, I am probably the opposite of sentimental, whatever that is. (I'll go with "pragmatic" over "dispassionate.") In light of that, no one is more surprised than I that I have so many cherished items from high school in my scrapbook.

When I was in high school, I worked at The Nut Hut. Before you get carried away, that is not code for the State Home for the Criminally Insane or even a gay bar. It was an overpriced mall shop that sold nuts and candy by the pound. The shop took up a busy corner and was really just a wrap around candy counter. This made it a fun place to work since the people watching opportunities were endless.

Apparently, the people watching worked both ways. John says that the first time he ever saw me was from the jewelry store across the mall. He watched me for a long time, trying to decide how to approach me, what to say. It finally occurred to him: "Just go buy something, you idiot!" And I remember well when he finally did. He sampled and bought and sampled and bought. I thought he must be older and have a pretty good job to be able to afford the high priced goodies. No one ever bought entire pounds of anything, much less white chocolate with almonds AND Jelly Belly jelly beans!

On subsequent visits, he talked to me a lot. I found out that we were the same age. We joked that we had become "good friends." Still, I was surprised when I arrived for work one day and found a note he had left with one of my coworkers. Here's the text of that note:

"I was just thinking, since we're such 'good friends,' maybe we should get to know each other better -- maybe go to a movie or something. Do me a favor and give me a call, will ya?"

It was signed "John (the guy from White Hall that likes white chocolate and jelly beans)." Naturally, I called him. We started chatting on the phone as often as our school and work schedules would allow. (All of this was in very early 1988. You all remember the 80's. We actually talked on phones instead of typing on them.)

Even with all of the talking we had done, I was surprised when he sent me a card for Valentine's Day. On the cover was a picture of a barefoot couple on a swing watching the sunset. The caption read, "I want a meaningful relationship." The inside text: "But I'll settle for meaningless sex!" He had inserted a booklet of "love coupons." (I guess someone was shopping at Spencer's. ;-)

Thankfully, John was wise enough to write a note rather than leaving it all to the genius greeting card writers. Here is what he wrote:

"Ha ha! Just a small joke. Look, maybe our parents and friends (at least mine) are right. Maybe we should go out, what say? I mean, if your mother and brother keep pestering you and my friends keep pestering me much longer, I'm sure we'll both go crazy. So here I go with a proper proposal (please remember that I'm not very good at this). Would you like to go out with me Friday night (If you have to work, we can catch the late movie at the mall)?

I'm not an animal that wants to ravish you at first chance, I just want to have a nice date with you. After that -- who knows?

P.S. The coupons are good any time with no expiration date."

Naturally, I went out with him. That first date was February 19, 1988. If you're straining to do the math, that was 22 years ago this Friday. So, yes, I kept that card. I kept the note. I kept the card that came with the flowers he sent me at school the day of our first date. In fact, I kept lots of cards from lots of flowers he sent while we were together in high school. I have kept all of these things and more because the time we spent together was the best time of my life...until almost two years ago when we found each other again. It is no surprise that that time is the one about which pragmatic me is the most sentimental.

If I had only kept those darn love coupons...