How the true identity of a dazzling sister can affect your love life.

I was a freshman in high school. He was perfection. And he asked my sister to Homecoming. Thus begins the story of my life. Well, a story in my life, anyway.

It really all began much earlier than our high school years. I was born one year and eleven days after my older sister, Natalie. We were great friends. We confided in each other, had Miss America pageants with our paper dolls together, borrowed each others clothes in later years, (or was that just me pilfering her clothes?), and struck deals such as Natalie getting to drive Mom's Explorer to work when Mom and Dad were out of the country, and in return, I could drive her Probe to school. We were "tight", as the kids say.

When I was about 12 years old I began to realize the differences between my sister and myself. The one that most people seemed to notice was the big, external, in-your-face difference. More than one person was caught in an awkward situation when, upon catching sight of Natalie, would exclaim how beautiful she was. "Oh, Natalie is so gorgeous!"...and then their voice would falter as they realized that I was standing just behind Natalie, and they surely could not compliment one daughter while ignoring the other, so they would stammer for a moment, and then say, "...and Bethany is so funny!", or some such cover up. Okay, maybe it was just the one time that someone made that blunder, but it certainly made in impression.

From then on, I was painfully aware that my sister possessed the gift of beauty while I was left to search for other gifts that I might delight people with. I never resented her in any way for being so alluring while I was stuck in the shadow of her glow, but I obviously envied her.

I'm not sure if Natalie ever did realize exactly how attractive she was and still is. It wasn't just the outward appearance, either. She was, and remains, kind, intelligent, thoughtful and humble. Always, it seemed that she sought the approval of others. She needn't have, because she embodied most of the characteristics that everyone considered good and lovely. And she did so seemingly without effort. Through my eyes, her face was simply the crown of all her glories.

Through the years we went, until we sisters arrived at the age of high school crushes and first loves. You can imagine my distress as I watched Natalie attract attention from all fronts. I was to follow her in the dating game by a full year, and it was already too late for me. School was bad enough, but at church every boy took an interest in her as though she had slipped them all a delicious love potion. There were probably moments when my innocent envy became sincere jealousy, but the moment of true torture did not come until she was asked to the homecoming dance by the boy who occupied most of my daydreams. We'll call him Leslie. (Yes, I chose that name because now it seems fitting, and it makes me laugh. Apologies to anyone who's real name is Leslie.)

My mother spent several hours making a dress for Natalie to wear to the dance, and upon it's completion, I could not believe that anyone could look so utterly glamorous while wearing long, black, lace sleeves. Natalie was the picture of elegance. Her normally perfectly straight hair that I longed to have for myself was set in glossy curls that framed her almond eyes, delicate nose and full lips. And she had boobs too! That's another story though...

Leslie came to pick Natalie up for their date, and he was nearly a match for her. His smile was intoxicating to me as I sat there on the couch watching him fumble with her corsage. Sparkling eyes and flawless complexion, and ooohh, I could smell his cologne. And then the boy who I was convinced that I was madly in love with walked out the door with my sister.

Leslie must have been mad with curiosity as to why Natalie did not agree to go out with him again. I can only imagine his confusion as he tried to work out whether it was his looks, his personality or some other unknown factor which lead to her apparent lack of absorption with him. When he couldn't figure it out on his own, I suppose that's when he recruited help. Me. Poor, little naive me. He lured me simply by paying me attention. We discussed Natalie and plotted ways for him to win her affections. Surprisingly, this caused me no anguish because I was spending time with him, and it didn't matter how we filled those hours. Eventually, he gave up the game realizing that he was getting nowhere. I don't know why Natalie did not accept a second date with Leslie, but I can admit that she must have seen something in him that I did not. But Leslie's toying with me did not stop. I spent my lunch hours at school with him, planned my route to my classes in attempt to pass by him hoping for the honor of his glance and spent hours talking with him on the phone. And all the while, he remained out of my reach. I was truly unwise and inexperienced when it came to teenage love. So obsessed was I with Leslie, that he soon became my reason for living. I returned to school just days after surgery on my foot because I couldn't bear not to see him. This was just one of my pathetic displays, but the rest make me look even worse and are not crucial to this particular plot.

In the middle of my sophomore year of high school I was presented with a choice. I could stay at Battle Ground High School, or join my aforementioned sister in transferring to La Center High School. It was an arduous decision. In the end, I finally came to my senses and decided that the best thing I could do for myself would be to remove myself from the situation of being led on, toyed with and made to feel silly and worthless by the person who I had wished to gaze at forever.

To this day I don't understand what was going through the mind of that boy that I had first fallen for. Was I a game? Was I a means to an end - a way to win my sister? It's been more than a decade however, since I have cared. By transferring to a new school I was blessed enough to be able to capture a boy, who, for the first time in my life, did not have an infatuation with Natalie. Silly thing.

Looking back through my muddled memories, I find that I have learned many lessons. I have learned that my big sister is, indeed, very beautiful, but that does not make me less than her; although other things might! I have learned to put my love in places where it will be multiplied, not used or mocked. I have learned to look for the inward good in people before determining their worth. Who knew that first loves could be so crucial in teaching us some of life's greatest lessons? In the end, I am grateful for my big sister and all the "beautiful" things that she has helped me to stumble upon.