High Vibes

She was such a goddamn Pisces. Absolutely nobody gets involved with a celebrity of their own accord. Nobody is really that dumb. Talk about a fish out of water from the start. Leave it to her to jump right in and start flailing immediately.

Was it the fact that he didn't want to quite ever acknowledge her in public? Was it the fact that he had a huge fanbase that decided to group-hate her?

Was it her own insecurities that she projected onto him that did them in?

The truth is that she had always told herself never to date a guy who was prettier than her.

Too bad she had no choice but to fall flat head over heels and flat on her face in the process.

It was absolutely ridiculous. It was like some crazy cosmic connection—she had no intentions to fall for him. She even told him there was no way she would ever fall for him, especially after he told her she wasn’t allowed to and she took it as a personal affront and a detriment to his health that he even assumed such a snobbish first impression of putting on airs.

Yet, here she was two years later, sitting at another gala, watching him pace through the room, owning the entire place with his charisma and charm while fully pretending she didn’t exist. It had become a sick, twisted game. She once thought it was cute, the way they had shared secrets like little kids and kept their inner bubble intact. It felt like playing spy, sneaking glances, texting from under the table, flirting with seductive eyes and silly gestures to prove she wasn’t forgotten.

Perhaps there would be a wink her way, perhaps a favorite color worn, or a suggestive word to make her smile. Sometimes he might even glance her way, and she wasn’t sure still if she should acknowledge him back. So mostly she did not. She pretended she didn’t see him look her way. She wondered now if that had been a mistake from the start. She could always feel him. But maybe he wasn’t aware of that the way she thought he was always so connected in thought.

She had even seen a psychic once. She had mentioned no man in her life, nor any romance, but the psychic woman had informed her she was so tied to a person from afar, in the way that he might be in Vegas partying it up and she’d be in her private work world back home but they could feel each other. Indeed, he’d often ring her at exactly the moment she started to imagine what he was doing far away without her. Then she felt like maybe he was simply talking to her. Maybe it could be that simple. She’d never have to know about naked bathtub photos released by girls trying to make money from a celebrity. She’d never have to think about the times he wasn’t talking to her, and most of the time she just didn’t have time to think about those times. Until they increased in frequency and became more the norm than their conversations and connection.

They say you can feel someone falling away from you. Maybe it was a Pisces thing, too. Always fantasizing about the best or the worst of the situation. But there was also fear. Fear that she wasn’t enough and that she couldn’t keep him entertained. So then she became overly entertaining until she was getting exhausted. Then her exhaustion made him feel unwelcomed.

It was a vicious circle. In a way, it was probably a relief that he wound up in an orgy in Vegas. Not only was it so cliché in every way imaginable that she could just laugh about it, but it made her feel that she had been correct all along and that she couldn’t please him all on her own. While sad, at least it held up to her original theories of who they both were—unsurprised was a typical Pisces. You really couldn’t put too much past them, unless they refused just to see.

So, while she had seen all along, she still refused to fully absolve this relationship, or what was left of it. She sat quietly in the back of the room, presenting ladylike loyalty to absolutely no one because nobody knew she even existed. But she honestly watched him, resolutely proud of him.

That was the Pisces in her, too. She could get hurt deeply, but she would still support her man. And the bitches at the table were waiting to wag their tongues to any stray gossip later so there was no point in showing her pain or sorrow. They would love to eat her alive given half a chance

But, as the night wore on, it became uncomfortably clear this year was not like other years. He stopped looking her way at all. He seemed unimpressed by her attempt to fit into his world. He had his celebrity pals to giggle with and group smoke with in the corner, the way an 80’s movie cool crowd hung out at the edge of the football bleachers. It was ironic that Sean Penn was in that crowd still, alongside a heroine, a few rappers, a socialite millionaire, and a fashion icon.

This year, as she sauntered up to his side and did her usual “thank you for the invitation,” which previously had resulted in at least heart flutters and shaky introductions that led to laughter and relaxed communal understanding, dare she say mutual interest and shy, underhanded attentions, he ignored her. He turned his back. He started a conversation with his agent, then sort of huffed a gruff side “oh thanks” and turned back to his party and she smiled and turned to walk away.

She stumbled for only a moment as she saw her best friend staring at her in the crowd. She had specifically come to keep her company tonight, even from a country away. She wasn’t missing it. She could feel the tears starting at the corners of her eyes, but she couldn’t ruin things for her friend. So she did what anyone in the celebrity world learns to do too well- she played pretend.

She walked back with her head high and politely said he was wonderful to her. She didn’t elaborate She suddenly needed to find a restroom. As she walked away just in time to shed the tears on the way to the bathroom, she caught a glimpse of him packing up while still talking with his agent and manager and a few party stragglers. She was almost to the exit of the beautiful museum interior decorated in abstract art and black lights to promote his next project and charity when she stumbled on a light cord in her Manolo heels and tumbled right into the wall.

She was too petrified to look up, hoping no one noticed. Then a hand was helping her up, as she sniffled and tried to keep her dress from ripping on her shoe as she tried to unravel from the décor. She almost half-imagined and even hoped he had noticed and rushed to her rescue.

But, when looking up, she realized it was exactly the last person she’d ever expect to rescue her.

It was Sean Penn. Of all the luck. Another celebrity bad-boy male. What was a girl to do?