Part 8 of My Purpose Story

The day Doofy and I decided to get married, everything changed. We were both 22. So young right? I know what your thinking, how could we possibly know what love even meant? How could we understand what the rest of our lives would look like? We had zero life experience. I can’t explain it. Everything felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. Were we really in love? Or were we in lust? The truth is, Doofy’s life wasn’t easy either. He has his own demons, but that’s not my story to tell. All I know, is we were set to get married. Where the fuck was my ring? Oh wait, we couldn’t afford one. 

We continued working and surviving. We had one car that kept overheating. He started to get rides to work. We didn’t tell anyone we were getting married. We were trying to process it ourselves. We had the same small spats, that my traumatized ass turned into me packing my bags and threatening to go “home.” I didn’t realize then, that he was my “home.” I fought him so much that year. I don’t know what I was trying to resist. I now realize I was self-sabotaging. I wanted to find something wrong with him. I didn’t feel worthy of a life with him. I didn’t feel worthy of a man like him. Everything else I had ever known was toxic. Doofy was different. He didn’t give up, and he wouldn’t let me give up on him. He loved me more and more. I just wanted to fight.  “Why the fuck are you ignoring me?” I would scream. He would just look at me calmly and say “I love you, I don’t want to argue.” I wonder if he saw me as a wounded bird that he saved after falling from a tree. I was a wounded bird. I was more like a wounded lion. I threatened to leave him more times than I could count. He never believed my empty threats. He knew we were soulmates. He knew before I knew. 

We called the Catholic church. “We want to get married” I said to the receptionist. “I will have the priest call you back” she answered. Growing up in a Mexican family, we had no choice but to get married in the church. We weren’t the most religious people, hell our family has it’s own share of secrets, but getting married in the church is just something you did.  I got a call from the priest “your both baptized right?” Nope. Doofy had to order his own birth certificate growing up, there was no way anyone had ever baptized him, but like I said, this is my story, not his. “Not exactly” I responded. The priest proceeded to tell me all of the rules that we would have to follow before we got married in front of God. “Let’s do it” he said optimistically. We started the process. We went to the classes. That is when we met Deacon Don. Our marriage guardian angel, Deacon Don. He must have been the closest thing to a living angel that I had ever met. 

We met with him once a week. He opened his home to us. He had us take a compatibility test. “If you both miss more than two questions, I will not be able to consent to this marriage” he said seriously. In other words, Doofy and I would have to answer the questions identically while being in separate rooms. “Don’t fuck this up Doofy” I said with my deathly stare. He just smiled, and laughed nervously. Deacon Don gathered his results, and brought us back to the living room to talk. I was nervous. “Okay, there is one question we need to discuss” he stated. Shit. This is it. “We can’t get married” I thought. I gave Doofy the look. “Ricardo” he started (that is Doofy’s real name by the way) “you answered that you want at least three children” he said. “Dora, you said you only wanted one.” I was pissed. Doofy knew I wanted only one kid, how dare he say three. Fucking sabotage. He doesn’t want to marry me, I convinced myself. I kept a straight face. Doofy didn’t dare look at me. 

“Well, the truth is, children aren’t really for us” I tried to explain. “Oh really” said Deacon Don, “because based on this, they are for Ricardo.” He gave us a grim look. He reminded us that we needed him to consent, and that if he didn’t feel comfortable, he would let the priest know, and there would be no wedding in the catholic church. I was not about to be the one to tell my Mexican mother that Ricardo answered incorrectly. We talked it out with him Deacon Don. He understood we were still young, and he was sure we could compromise as we grew older together. He said that was the only question that we didn’t answer identically, so he felt confident in our union. I was shocked. By this point we had barely known each other six months. I was starting to believe that Doofy and I had a bigger purpose, and that we didn’t meet by accident. 

We continued marriage counseling. He told us something I will never forget and that I hold dear to my heart till today. He said “your spouse is your soulmate, your spouse needs to come before your mother, before your children; before anyone.” I didn’t understand this at all. I was raised to believe that family comes first. I asked him what he meant. He said “let’s say you have kids, and the two of you argue, you choose the kids as you have been taught to do, and then you divorce, who do the kids have? The kids would have a broken home” he continued. “If the foundation crumbles, you don’t have a home, if you break up, the kids have two separate families” he said. “However, if you stay united, if you stay together, if you remember you are on the same team, then the kids have a family forever.” Damn, I had never thought of it like that. “Now, let’s say you choose your parents over each other, well your parents are on earth to live their own life, maybe you will divorce over them, but they have their own soulmates, you are not meant to live with your parents forever,” he explained. Wow. My mind was blown. There was so much truth to what he was saying. 

While I know everyone has their own religious beliefs, and their systems, I don’t want you to feel I am pushing anything on you. The truth is, I am not the most religious person, but I am extremely spiritual. Everything surrounding my encounter with Doofy ignited a spiritual flame in me that I never knew existed. 

Deacon Don approved our classes. As we were leaving his home for the last time, I felt a sense of sadness. I learned more about love and marriage from this man then I had ever before. My parents didn’t have the best marriage, to be honest, I didn’t have the best role models to teach me about love, but Deacon Don was our savior. We continued planning for the wedding. As the months grew closer, Doofy and I bought my ring together. He held it in his closet. “I will give it you when I am ready” he said. What the fuck? “We are planning a wedding” I argued. He stayed quiet. I hated his natural ability to stay calm. 

One night we were hosting a house party for some friends. We must have had 30 people at our house. It was someone’s birthday. Doofy walked over to the music and turned it off. He drunkenly got on his knee and asked me to marry him. Typical Doofy fashion. “Yes” I yelled. He put the ring on my finger. “It’s about damn time” I told him. He smiled. Our friends cheered. “When’s the wedding?” they asked. “It’s in five months” we laughed in response. There was nothing traditional about Doofy and me. 

We arrived in Washington the week of the wedding. We were set to get married July 7, 2007. We had a meeting with the priest. My mom was with us. He said he needed to verify the date of my baptism. He pulled a large book of records and searched for my name. “Here it is” he said, “you were baptized on September 29, 1984.” I gasped. I looked at Doofy. He didn’t know what to say. “Is everything okay?” the priest asked. My mom was confused. “That’s Ricardo’s birthday” I answered. The priest smiled. “We all have a soulmate” he said. This could not be real. This was crazy!

I was baptized the day Doofy was born!

See you next week for part 9 of my purpose story. Thank you for following me along my journey. Please subscribe to my email list for any news or blog updates.