Dear Wierd Creepy Guy at Borders,

I'm not sure who you are, though you seem to think you know who I am. The first time our eyes met, you smiled and I smiled back. It was an act of kindness and politeness on my part, that's all it was. As I continued to browse through a couple books I was considering buying, I felt like I was being stared at. I looked up and there you were again, staring at me with that creepy smile on your face. I wondered if maybe you had X-ray vision and you could see that I was wearing my hot pink underwear with the little red hearts all over them...

I moved to another part of the store at that point because, honestly, you were really freaking me out. That's when I noticed you following me. I tried to convince myself that maybe you just had the same interests as me and that's why you followed me to the parenting section. Are you also a screamer and you were trying to find a book on scream-free parenting? Or perhaps you're more into the Love and Logic thing? Magic 1-2-3? Trying to get your kids to go green? Trying to get the in-laws to mind their own business?

Nope, I guess not. Apparently, you thought I was your high-school crush, Rosie Nelson. Sure, it had been about 20 years since you had last seen Rosie but you were pretty darn confident that I was Rosie. Let me tell you that I am not Rosie Nelson, nor have I ever heard of Rosie Nelson. No, I'm not lying to you. I'm sorry that I look "exactly like Rosie Nelson" and I'm sorry that somehow seeing me, even though I'm not Rosie Nelson, has brought back some painful memories for you. I'm sorry that Rosie Nelson didn't go to prom with you. I'm sorry she broke your heart. Honestly, I am not Rosie Nelson trying to pretend to be someone else...I would show you my ID to prove it to you but I'm afraid you'll memorize my address and hunt me down and then next thing I know I'll be stuck in a deep hole in the ground with you screaming down to me "It places the lotion in the basket". I don't think I'd be so lucky as to have Clarice Starling come to my rescue.

I'm a total stranger....do you really need to be telling me all this? Dude, you need help. I honestly think you think I'm Rosie Nelson....in the psychology world, this is what we call "transference". You might want to discuss this with your psychiatrist next time you go in for a medication evaluation. You might even want to mention that you need an increase in your anti-psychotic meds.

Ever heard of Classmates? My Space? Facebook? Twitter? Those would all be really good ways of finding the real Rosie Nelson, instead of stalking some innocent, unsuspecting woman who's just trying to buy a couple books at Borders on how to be a better parent. Although I suspect that if Rosie Nelson were smart, she'd probably have moved very far away from here after high school (and more than likely has all her profiles listed as "private" because even 20 years later, I'm sure she must still harbor anger over you calling her HO-sie Rosie for the remainder of high school...and the fact that you still find that funny is just disturbing....seriously).

For future reference, a better way to have handled this in order to avoid completely freaking me out, would have been to just walk over casually (without the whole creepy smile thing going on) and ask "Hey, you look like a friend of mine from high school...any chance you're Rosie Nelson?". I would've smiled politely and said, "No, I'm sorry, I'm not...but have a nice day". You would've walked away...end of story. It didn't need to turn into a therapy session for you where you try to cleanse your soul and attempt one more try at letting go of the grief that Rosie Nelson caused for you.

On that note, wishing you lots of luck in the future (and lots of psych evaluations)....Oh and by the way, you've made a huge mistake in underestimating me. I've read "The Gift of Fear" and I can take your ass down!

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