My teenage son asked me if I ever fell in love with a high school teacher. "In fact, I did. She was gorgeous! I couldn't take my eyes off of her... I dreamt of a life together with her day and night."

My teenage son asked me if I ever fell in love with a high school teacher. "In fact, I did. She was gorgeous! I couldn't take my eyes off of her... I dreamt of a life together with her day and night."

My son's eyes widened, a look of shocked admiration on his face. "No way, Dad! So what happened? Did you run off together? Did she leave your high school sweetheart for you?" He was practically on the edge of his seat, probably picturing some forbidden, Hollywood-esque romance.

I took a sip of my coffee, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Well, son, it was a complicated situation. You see, she was strict, but fair. She demanded excellence, and sometimes, she'd make me stay after class."

"Ooh, detention with your dream girl, huh?" he snickered. "That's hardcore, Dad."

"Indeed," I continued, leaning back in my chair. "Every day, I'd try to impress her. I'd sit up straight, take copious notes, and even volunteer to answer questions, which, as you know, was highly out of character for me back then."

He nodded, still captivated. "So, did she ever notice you? Did she give you a special look?"

"Oh, she noticed me alright," I said, a faint glimmer of mischief in my eye. "And she gave me plenty of special looks. Usually, they were the kind that said, 'Stop talking to your friends and pay attention, Mr. Peterson!' or 'Did you actually read the textbook this time?'"

My son's brow furrowed. "Wait a minute... that doesn't sound very romantic, Dad. What was her name? Was she the English teacher? The drama teacher?"

I chuckled, finally unable to contain my grin. "Her name, my boy, was Mrs. Henderson, and she was my Algebra II teacher. And the reason I couldn't take my eyes off her, and dreamt of a life together? Because if I didn't pay attention, and if I didn't master those quadratic equations, I knew I'd be stuck repeating her class all summer. And frankly, son, a summer spent with Mrs. Henderson and endless parabolas was my worst nightmare!"

My son stared at me, then burst out laughing, a mixture of relief and disbelief on his face. "Dad! You got me! I thought you were going to tell me some epic love story!"

"It was an epic love story, son," I said, winking. "A love story between me and a passing grade. And let me tell you, that was a relationship I worked very, very hard to maintain!"