My Asymptote

Love stories never really end well. Yes, there are the perfect romance novels, but tell me, when have you ever seen love like that? Not that I don’t want it because I certainly do. Its just that our hearts are destined to betray us. The fault lies in what our heart lets us love, my heart for example loves the good guy. Of course, this doesn’t sound like it would be a problem, except for the fact that the good guys I inevitably fall for, are entirely unattainable. I guess I should start from the beginning.

So, picture this, a sweet little freshman showing up to a new volleyball team, knowing no one, naturally, and in walk my future best friend. At the time, we were far from the friends we are today; I was the shy quiet one, and she was the one that was trying not to acknowledge my insufferable awkwardness. Flash forward a few months or so, we are now close enough for me to know that she has six eligible brothers and that she will be my favorite person until the end of time. We soon became inseparable; we knew each other inside and out. On road trips she would use a sweatshirt to cover my bony shoulders so that she could rest her head on my shoulder as we watched the cheesiest romance movies we could find. I was her attempted wing-man and she was mine. I would take her knee pads and shoes off after practice and she would give me five stars. She made my world a far better place.

Being a freshman and intoxicated with the idea of a sweet high school romance, I had convinced myself that I had fallen completely and utterly in love with the first boy who showed any interest in me, when really, all I loved was the idea of it all. For privacy purposes, I shall name this boy Jason. Jason was never really what I wanted, instead he was just enough for me to convince myself that he was for me. Some had the foresight to warn me against this choice, but of course, I thought I would be different and that we were perfect for each other. He was the perfect ideal, he told me what I wanted to hear. I told him I loved him. He was with another girl for a third of our relationship. But I can’t say I was entirely faithful either. It was during our relationship that my heart first started to feel something. I met him. I can’t say that the first time I saw him was life altering. What I felt for him was soft, tender, warm. When Jason and I inevitably broke up, all I felt was a perpetual hatred of him for how he treated me and a sense of relief.My best friend was there for me, offered to have her brothers come beat Jason up, and vowed to help me find a new boyfriend who actually loved me and would treat me well.  

Flash forward to the summer between freshman and sophomore year when I finally realized what my heart had been starting to feel. I went with my best friend to her brother’s, which I will name, again for the sake of privacy, Ben, football game. He was a sophomore in college at the time and was getting good play time as a tight end. After a two-hour drive, my best friend and I sat up in the stands getting sun burnt and eating snow cones. We cheered and took pictures and videos of her brother for the never-ending photo album of all of the ridiculously athletic kids in my best friend’s family. As I watched him move on the field, my heart fluttered helplessly: he was beautiful. After the game, my best friend and her family, with me helplessly following them, began to make their way down to the field where he soon came jogging over to them, trying to be happy for them despite a hard loss. The last time I saw him that night, he had just showered and was getting back on the bus to leave, and he was saying good bye to his family. I will always the remember the way he said my name and beckoned me into his arms. In his warms arms I felt so small, yet so protected, almost as if I were always meant to find myself there. As crazy as that sounds.

It was so easy for me to imagine something more with him. He was perfect for me. I had fallen for everything about him. The way he would tease his siblings and the way he moved on the football field. I could see myself as his wife, my best friend’s sister, with quite possibly the best mother-in-law possible.

But then there was that phrase. That agreement. ‘You can never date one of my brothers.’ It wasn’t exactly that they were off limits, but it would make things weird between us. I knew this long before she ever said it out loud, it’s why I was never able to tell her what I feel for her brother. It such a stereotype and I hate it, but Ben, he could be my person. He is everything I want. And I can never have him. Not to mention that, being the amazing person that he is, has now found his potential person, his potential wife.

I have long since come to terms with just how off limits he is. Yet, every relationship since that moment that I realized that I should be with him, has been half-hearted, insincere. But I can’t help it, I am in love with someone else. He is my asymptote.

As·ymp·tote noun: a line that continually approaches a given curve but does not meet it at any finite distance.

Sometimes when you get to know a person, the attraction fades, you start to see things that you don’t like, you realize that they aren’t perfect. But not with him. With him I only ever find more to fall in love with, more that I’m missing, more that I could never have. From every single angle I see all the little things that make him perfect, everything I want. But it is the wanting that hurts the most. I want that romance novel love that I’m starting to feel only he can offer. It’s torture because no one knows and no one can know. He is my secret. Somehow it makes my love feel more real, I don’t have to prove it to anyone, I can feel it all for myself. He is everything I want and can’t have, because no matter how far I go, I will never be able to reach him. My asymptote.

Now, can you really blame me for thinking that love is never pretty?