"You know how I like to have everything work like a plan. Not that I ever carry them out, but I like organization. Ideally, I'm a perfectionist."

This note on a copy of his Army office work schedule. He's a clerk, remember. So, I have to wonder if this statement made me a little - or more than a little - nervous. Ironically, now I know exactly what he means. I'm a little - or more than a little - OC myself. Now. In my old age. In those days, however, most of my personal belongings accumulated in a pile on my bed. When I went to bed to sleep, I picked up the bedspread by the four corners and lifted everything off the bed onto the floor. In the morning, I lifted it back on, and there everything was, exactly as I had left it. In a big pile in the middle of the bed.

It was organization, of a sort. I can still understand my reasoning and plan of attack. But did I see myself as "organized?" Did I see myself as a "perfectionist?" Well, yes - in a way, I was certainly the latter, but forever came up short in my perfectionist performance. When a potential husband announced himself as a "perfectionist," did I get nervous? Knowing how far short of the mark I always fell. Was this one of those letters that began to scare me away?