Ficus
He’s a pisces.
A dragon.
A mafia type.
An incredible musician.
And he’s driving me crazy.
He was my manager at the coffee shop I worked at. We lost the shop the day after I kissed him goodnight. He’s Greek, but he looks Irish. That’s because his mom is Lithuanian and Polish. Freckles, and lots of them. His mom likes me . She took us out twice! last week. To an Italian restaurant, where else. Irony and I have this old game we like to play, care to join? She thinks I can make something out of him. Maybe I could, but I’m not interested.
See, I don’t mind fixing broken bird wings, especially if the bird really wants to fly. But what if there are no broken wings and they still don’t want to fly? What if they came from a cushy nest, and could play the prettiest bird songs on any instrument (and I do mean any, drums and bass the best though) they could find. But they don’t care about their gift, they already toured with other birds, played brilliant bird games, seen amazing bird towns. But they can’t get up to go try it all again.
I went for him because I had a hole in my heart. I had already driven 15 hours to make things better, but it hadn’t worked. I couldn’t wait by a phone that never rang or read email that never appeared. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to escape from the realities that were closing in around me. So I jumped at the chance. I figured no one would care because it was obvious they didn’t at the time.
I started dating. For the first time in two years. I had almost forgotten how to do it. I felt almost cherished, for an instant, girlie. I think I had the gist when suddenly everything went crazy. He told me he loved me and asked me to marry him. What!?!?! This was merely days after our getting together. I was caught up, flabberghasted. I said yes because I thought this was my chance to escape myself, to escape boys made of smoke and mirrors. Don’t we always think and do the stupidest things when we’re really hurting? Anything to make it stop, to keep ourselves busy. This all happened early Halloween morning.
He hemmed and hawed the next day. I took it back because I realized how ridiculous it was, at least at this point in time. He took it back too, and we resigned ourselves to dating. Which was merely just hanging out. And then I began seeing what little we truly had in common. He didn’t feel the same intensity I do, and frankly, it was unnerving to think I could just jump into something like that. I couldn’t stand being with someone who felt so little passion. So, I guess I was spoiled.
Besides, I could never ever marry someone I don’t love. My love belonged to another long before he came along. It wouldn’t be fair.
And I sit there, at Insomnia, eating my sammich, drinking my Bass, listening to him talk about himself. Again. He doesn’t need me there, I’m just scenery so it doesn’t look like he’s talking to himself about himself. And I couldn’t breathe. So I went home to wonder how long it would take to figure out I wasn’t sitting next to him anymore.
But he is a good person, so I have to let him know he is not the person who can pin me down. I have met only one who could do this, and as much as I think of Ficus, he ain’t the one. So I have to be gentle and confront this……tell him and be completely honost. Honosty is generally the furthest thing from easy there is. I really don’t want to hurt him.
Maybe he’ll be so caught up in himself that he won’t notice I’ve left.