A follow up to X Marks the Spot by Alexa Lash – a writer, editor, and on-the-spot poet. Former Floridian and resident Bostonian, she has written for the Seminole Chronicle, Momslikeme, and the Central Florida Future, and is currently working in the Journalism Department of Emerson College.
Don’t worry about the formula, you know. The common denominator in this situation is your love for each other. The way your heart pumps in a series, as if part of the same chord. So what if you’re acutely aware of the differences? Your identity crisis will be the death of your relationship. You, all logic; her, all arcs—I mean, well, let’s just say you’re dating a real number of a girl. But you can see the pump, pump, pump pump when she spots you. Doesn’t skew the results if you perceive yourself as average. You know the absolute value of a person, and if you say she’s perfect, then she is. Her lips, her hips, her eyes: she’s stacked like textbooks.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel less than content. I’m just worried about you. No, no jealousy here. I’m as happy as you that the cliché is approaching zero, that the limits of high school do not exist. The nerd, the cheerleader, it could totally work. One hundred percent. Maybe I’ll even be able to go for that QB. I hear he’s single, the outcome of a relationship with a girl who lacked the ability to keep it even, prime. She believed in being divisible by more than him and her; a quotient greater than one. She remaindered his ego and his heart.
Okay, okay. I won’t make this about me, an imaginary i in your equation. This is about your combination, the obvious asymmetry with the less proportional emotions attached. If we could graph it out you’d be an ordered pair, expectations hidden in another quadrant, the reality coplanar. Your issue is confidence, my friend; because trust me, you’re handsome, intelligent, only a little bit obtuse.Take my advice: you change your mode of thinking and you’ll be the denominator to her numerator. It doesn’t take a calculator to find a solution to your problems.
Don’t look at me like that. I’m someone you can count on; count down how many times I’ve been there for you. When Archimedes deleted your data in hopes you’d lose the science fair.When David Hilbert and Georg Cantor bisected your final paper, hiding one half in the girl’s restroom. The inversed backpacks. The tears that fell from the slopes of your cheeks as you measured the circumference of the toilet bowl with your eyes, your mouth full of water while you worked it out. This is the commutative property of our relationship. No matter the order of events, we end up with the same result: I intercept on your behalf. It’s what friends do.
This, though; this is easy. You’re experiencing a total ellipse of the heart, a Bonnie Tyler equivalent. Just decrease the frequency of your phone calls; play it cool, calm, collinear—you dig? You’ve got to be on the same plane. She likes you, as she should. She’s lucky to be in your radius. To get to stand parallel, your eyes interlocking as you hold hands under the bleachers. If I were her I’d never let you go. I’d love you infinitely. Simple love. Complicated. It all adds up.
Go on, then. She’s waiting for you. Just remember I’m here, a constant. Your constant.
I’ll see you in Math.
featured image by Selina-Vigu
Wanna read more captivating stories for geeks from Alexa’s series? Check out Less than Three: A Love Poem in Internet Slang, X Marks the Spot: A Pirate’s Tale in Computer Terms, Type M for Murder: A Mystery Short in Graphic Design Terms, Pub and Marriage: A Noir Short Story in Publishing Terms & Kern, Baby, Kern: A Relationship in Typographical Terms.