Part 5 of My Purpose Story
Wow…am I really here? Did I make it this far? Someone pinch me. As I type this from the safety of my bedroom, the sound of Jason Mraz “I won’t give up” fills the air, and the smell of scented lavender candle relaxes me, I still find it hard to believe that I have made it here. Here, where love lives. Where laughter is encouraged. Where sharing your feelings is the norm. I can hear my six-year-old on her tablet watching You tube videos, searching for the next prank to play on her 11-year-old sister Aleena. I really don’t know why I pay for cable. It’s pointless.
My husband is relaxing on the couch watching whatever sport is on TV, while Linda (she is my daughter’s guinea pig) “popcorns” around her cage since she just got spoiled with new toys. Her name is Linda “because she don’t listen” says Mila, my six year old daughter who named her. You guys, I can’t make this up. Sometimes I wonder if she is a reincarnation of my dad.
Anyway, what happened to me in March of 2006? The Universe introduced me to Doofy. You read that right. That is his nickname; I will explain later.
That month, I was done with the games, done with the “bitch boys” (I stole that phrase from my favorite movie Uptown Girls). I had a friend who lived in Tucson, Arizona. I am sure she was tired of hearing about my sob stories, so she invited me to come hang out for Spring Break. I agreed. I needed a break. I booked my flight. Seven nights, eight days of partying, new people lots of alcohol and my newfound peace of being alone. My mom was excited for me. She knew I needed a break too. I was almost done with community college. I would be graduating that May with my Associates Degree.
I arrived on Wednesday. I was ready to go shopping during the day and hit the bars at night (I was 21, going on 22). “Let’s go to my friend Doofy’s house” my friend said. WTF?! “First of all, what is a Doofy?” and second of all “no, I came here to go out, not go to some Doofy’s house.” “He’s really nice!” she exclaimed. I reluctantly agreed because she promised we would go out after. We hung out and played drinking games. I was trying to leave to the bars, but my friend was talking to Doofy’s friend. SHIT. I was stuck at Doofy’s house. He kept staring at me eating me with his eyes, while I just rolled mine. I was done with the “bitch boys.” He kept trying to talk to me. I wasn’t having it. I had a shitty track record, and I was not about to run that race with him.
We ended up taking a spontaneous trip to Rocky Point, Mexico. I guess they had a beach there? Only beach I had ever been to was in Mazatlan. Arizona is the desert, “how could there possibly be a beach there?” I thought to myself. “Doofy said he would drive us” my friend said. “Oh I am sure he would” I mumbled under my breath. He showed up to her house to pick us up. He was wearing aviators. I thought he looked better with sunglasses on. He loaded our bags and we were off. Off to another country. My mom had no idea I was about to cross the border with my friends and a guy named “Doofy.”
“What is your real name” I asked him on the drive. My name is “Ricardo” he said. “So why do they call you that Doofy, that’s dumb” I judgingly told him. He explained that he was late for school one morning, nodded off and accidently drooled. His friends laughed at him and said he drooled like Doofy, then the name just stuck. “Gross” I thought to myself. He kept adjusting his rearview mirror to get a better look at me. Did this guy have no game? He was making it so obvious. He said he “loved his view.” “Oh Dora, you got yourself into another stupid situation” I thought.
We arrived in Mexico. I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. The first night Doofy bought me a dozen roses from the street vendor. So cheesy! I started to hand them out to my friends and any girls I saw. He smiled. He didn’t care. Why was he messing with me? I was broken. He had no idea who he was dealing with. “I am just here to party” I told him. “So, let’s party” he smiled holding my hand and leading me to the dance floor. We danced for hours at a day club call The Reef. I still didn’t like him. He was a fun time, but I was done with boys at that point.
That night, we got ready to go out again. We danced and drank some more, then at last call security shoved us out the door, and we were all separated. Doofy was our ride. I didn’t see him. There must have been hundreds of smelly, drunk, 21-year olds’ on the streets. We found a cab, and made our way back to the hotel. As soon as we got back to our hotel, I called Doofy’s room. I wanted to yell at him (honestly, because he stopped paying attention to me for 5 minutes) because he left us. He answered. I asked why he left us, just as he was about to answer, a girl grabbed the phone. “Who is it?” she said. He laughed. I jealously asked if he took another girl to his room. He laughed and said “you had your chance” and hung up the phone.
My ego was shot. I was pissed. I didn’t even like him, but I still felt cheated on. Rejection is such a funny thing. Screw him. He was just like all the other guys. I had dodged a bullet. That night I had a dream that changed my life forever. I saw my dad. We were in a cloud. The landscape was bright white. He was walking towards me and I was walking towards him. It felt like we were on opposite conveyor belts. He past me. I looked back. He looked familiar. He was younger. He was thin. I immediately remembered my parents wedding pictures. He looked like the groom in my parent’s wedding pictures. Tall, dark and handsome. “Daddy!” I yelled. “Mija” he said. I started crying. I got on my knees and pulled up his pant leg. Before my dad passed, he had dark sores on his legs from the lack of circulation due to his diabetes, eventually one needed to amputated. “You are better now!” I yelled. “Yes mija, I am not sick anymore” he said. I cried and hugged him tightly. The room got brighter. He pulled away and started walking toward the light. My feet were glued to the ground. I couldn’t chase him. I cried for him to come back. “I have to go, I love you” he said. I woke up crying. That is the day I started believing in God again.
The next morning, I decided I wasn’t talking to Doofy. I ignored him at lunch. I sat at the opposite end of the table. There were about 12 of us. It was a big table. He shouted at the waiter “get that girl whatever she wants, she is on my tab” he said pointing at me. Fucking Doofy. Did he have no shame? “Fuck it, let’s get shrimp, alcohol everything” my friends said. He happily paid.
The drive home was long. We were tired. We were hungover. Everyone fell asleep. I stayed up. I was worried he would fall asleep. We talked. He asked me about my life. He asked me about my goals. Wow, he had substance. “Shocker,” I thought to myself. Four hours later we arrived in AZ. I decided Doofy was mine. I had three days left in AZ. I was finally going to let him have his moment. The next few days were incredible. He was really funny. I had never laughed so much in my life. He was smart. He was driven. He was hardworking. I was enamored. We hooked up. He told me he loved me. “You don’t know me” I told him. “I just know I love you.” “You are crazy” I told him.
On my last day he offered to drive me to the airport. He kissed me goodbye. I got on the plane to head back to reality. Doofy was fun, but he wasn’t my reality. I landed in Seattle. “What the hell happened to you?” said my friend who picked me up. I looked like shit. I was bloated, hungover, had pink eye and an ear infection. Mexico-1, Dora 0.
That is when I felt it. The distance. It was so heavy. Oddly, I felt so empty. It was as if Doofy had filled a hole in my heart. I tried telling myself it was just infatuation; it was just lust. I called Doofy. He answered. It was 2 am. He answered quickly. He had to be up at 5 am for work. “I miss you”. “I miss you too,” he said. “Damn it Doofy, you better not be a dog” I told him. “I’m not,” he promised.
See you next week for Part 6 of my Purpose Story. Thank you for following me along my journey. Please add your email for any news or blog updates.
