Putting Bunny to Rest? Or Resuscitate the Bunny?

Putting Bunny to Rest? Or Resuscitate the Bunny?

I thought it was completely over. And it probably still is.

Our last conversation ended rather fiercely. We were communicating about seeing each other, and yet again, ANOTHER NO CALL NO SHOW. We had tentative plans to see each other on Sunday a few weekends ago, and then once we were gong to meet he didn’t respond to call or text. A few hours went by, and eventually I got an “I’m working.” When hours before he said to call me when I got home and we would hang out. I texted back that this is not the way to treat a friend and if he’s unavailable to see me, then just don’t invite me TO the door. He was furious at my text, that I was being dramatic. D doesn’t have any room in his life for me, for sweetness. Perhaps he’s head over heals in work. OK Point taken.

He calls me the next day to yell into my ear. The conversation ends poorly with a “HAHA I LOVE YOU. I’LL CALL YOU WHEN MY LIFE ISN’T CRAZY.”  And click. Those are his last words to me.

Weeks go by. I’m still semi-depressed from this sudden shut out, no communication, no friendly text, no speaking on the phone, nothing. I convince myself this is what I need to truly let him go. Give him 6 months, a year, and most likely he will NEVER be what I want him to be.

AND yet, there is always an unexplainable pull, of his power over me. An oceanic undercurrent of MAGIC  which pulls us ever so slightly back into each other’s orbits. Even though he does not have the capacity to be anything for me, his heart still searches for me. I still have his scarf. He still loves me.

Back in that fateful day in June, we met at a Masquerade Ball which was held at the Vibiana, which the now event venue is called “the Cathedral of Saint Vibiana”.

Excerpt Taken from Wikipedia,

“Pope Plus Xl chose the Cathedral’s name, choosing the third century Roman martyr Saint Vibiana. Cathedrals traditionally contain the relics of a saint, so the remains of St. Vibiana were removed from the Catacombs of Rome and moved to a gilt and plate glass sarcophagus located in a niche above the high altar.”

We met in a Roman Catholic Church built in 1876 in the name of a female saint, and her REMAINS are still there. And D, ever obsessed with his Croatian blood with the ancient Roman empires, even has the year 1453 TATTOED on his arm because that year marks the fall of Constantinople, when the Byzantine Empire fell to the Ottoman Empire. This legendary fact is just an interesting tie in to our Fairy Tale Love Story. I’m saying that with a Satirical tone; a tone of loss, of heartbreak, and of giving up. I can no longer hold onto this love story, no matter how seemingly perfect and romantic it is; because the story is just a story, and reality has consumed my imagination and destroyed almost every last remnant of him in my soul.

This now modern venue is an epic monument, a testament to Divinity. It is an old Cathedral, converted into an adult play ground. D and I cannot meet under ordinary circumstance; it always has to partake in the fantasy world in which we both inhabit.

It’s Saturday, and I keep getting very small and subtle wafts of HIM. He’s in the air, and even though we haven’t spoken in weeks, I know I am going to see him. I do not DARE and ask him if he’s coming. I’ve learned that is only a set up for disappointment. I presume if he wanted me there he would text me and tell me so.

So I walk in the door, and through the long and white hallway, he walks by swiftly and all I catch is the impression of him, like a shadow chasing itself. I walk towards the ghost, thinking it had to have been my imagination.  I always spot him way before he sees me, for my intuition is much better than his. Then I spot the woman he is with. She’s beautiful, thin, big tits, red lips and eyes that would kill you with her beauty in two seconds. I cannot compete with her. My heart is racing out of my chest, my nervous system is going haywire and I fake that everything is fine. I reach out to her first, his date I presume.

“Hi,” I smile warmly, and she smiles back.

We shake hands, I’m in a dizzy and I don’t remember her name. I don’t look at her again. Him and I make some small talk, and even though he does not respond to my emails, he reads them and remembers details from my messages. I just have to get used to the fact that he’s a silent communicator. HUH.

“So you’re moving out of Beachwood canyon at the end of the month?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going to go?” he asks expressing some form of concern with me. I know where I want to move but I don’t dare tell him I’m looking to move to West Hollywood, which would make me closer to him.

“I don’t know.” I fake, I’m coy and shy and not leading on that I’m hopelessly in love with him.

His date interjects as she is being ignored, and wants to walk into the art section. I walk away more quickly and loose them. I can’t handle hanging out with him and someone else. I find a friend to speak with for a while and I loose him in the crowd.

An hour goes by, and I am outside talking to my friend Daniel, and the Bunny approaches, looking for something but not meeting my eye. He comes in closer and signals to me that he wants to speak to me. I end my conversation and come in closer to him.

“So the answer to your question in your last text.” He says vaguely.

“What question?” I don’t remember what I said. Oh yeah I texted him that I missed him. I asked him if he was SANE yet.

“I’m not. I’m not SANE. What is Sane, hAhA. I’m not sure I know what that is.”

Of course a crazy person wouldn’t even know what sanity is.

I try to explain in the best way that I know howl Sanity knows where one thing ends and another begins. Your worlds are straight, time moves, and it seems to make sense. It seems as though he’s living in multiple worlds and multiple time frames and he doesn’t know where one ends and another begins.

He’s cheerful, perhaps faking it because he’s at a party. He’s exhausted, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, the worry lines deep in his face and his skin a pale white. He looks like a Vampire that needs to feed. He comes in close and touches my earring several times. I do not let him get so close as to touch my ear. He is a dangerous drug, like Heroin. It’s so good coming in. Perfect. Heavenly. And then the drug wears off you feel like an empty vessel of ghostly waste. I cannot let myself get a full dose of him because I will fall back into his trap. But I have to admit I got extremely high just standing next to him, just vibrating in his field. It’s too bad that those we are most attracted to are the most unavailable.  It’s the highest high and the lowest low. There’s no in-between.

D follows me around the party a bit, and juggles me between his date, or friend, or whatever she is. It doesn’t seem like they’re dating otherwise he wouldn’t be hanging next to me so much. I don’t ask because he hates my jealous side so I just pretend it doesn’t trigger me that he comes back to the VIBIANA where we first MET, a sacred place to my heart and soul, and he’s here with another woman. He’s completely insensitive and oblivious to the ways that he infinitely hurts me. If he can hurt me, he finds a way. Always. Gotta let this one go.

We get into a heated conversation and after he offers that I can find high-end clientele through his friend and that he’ll call me next week sometime, I look at him as ask him why in the world would I believe that he would call me next week.

He looks puzzled that I would say such a thing to a complete unreliable crazy Vampire of a man.

“I have NO expectations of YOU!”

His eyes squint up, he’s shocked at the concept that I have absolutely no trust in him whatsoever. That he destroyed any last remaining threads of hope in my heart that he will EVER return to me.

“What do you mean?” I kind of love it when the dialogue gets intense and emotional with him and I.

“I have no expectations of you. None. Zero. You’re not going to call me, you’re not ever going to follow through. I’ve given up hope. No let’s go inside, there’s a show happening in there”

I walk away, leaving him standing there. Its not long before he’s hovering around me again. I’m cordial; we hang, but not dare flirt. At the end of the party he leaves with his er, friend and hugs me good-bye. And this might be the last time we see this one another in a while.  Let the bunny hop around. See what other messes he can get himself into.

And of course these are dry satirical words of rejection, of loss, of heartbreak, and finally letting go of a relationship of an unhealthy sort. Now the first thing I look for in a man is Integrity. And I would say thus far I’m doing pretty well with not inviting crazy phantasmagorical unicorn lovers into my life. And I’ll cherish in my mind every moment I had with him.

The End