She got dumps like a truck
Baggage claim: A one-woman show with daddy issues, trust issues, and an existential crisis carry-on.
I've shared this story including Fernando with all its humor and poetic truth. Fernando gave his blessing and approved this message with one condition: I must inform all my hot friends that he's single, enjoys long walks on the beach, owns his condo in South Florida, holds NVIDIA stock, and is on track for an Oscar. He's seeking a hottie with a body to join him on numerous red carpets.
2:22 am, in bed, losing a battle with counting sheep, willing myself to sleep.
I squint at my phone, eyes blurred from the screen's harsh light during a middle-of-the-night doom scroll.
I'm exhausted, yet my mind races. I've been stuck in a freeze state for a few months. Resistance has taken over my life, and I need to shake things up. I'm fighting the urge on a daily basis to blow up my whole life to harvest grapes at a biodynamic winery in Europe, not that I've been looking into it or anything.
I open Google and without a thought begin typing, sketch comedy writing class
After scrolling through a few options, I land on a 10-week workshop at the Performing Arts Center. I hover over the class description and begin to talk myself out of it. “Hm. This seems like something I definitely don’t have time for.”
Click enroll
7:32 pm, in the lobby of the performing arts center, deeply regretting my middle-of-the-night purchase two weeks prior.
Looking around, I notice a cast of interesting characters: retirees, aspiring stars, deer-in-headlights types (ahem, me) who are also seemingly regretting the poor decisions that led them here. Then, one that stood out.
"My name is Fernando, and I walk like I’m DRUNK!" he slurs loudly with a big grin. I chuckle, as a fan of self-deprecating humor, he won me over instantly.
Fernando has Cerebral Palsy, but it doesn't stop him from doing anything, well— except maybe holding a fork.
Week after week, he quirkily fumbles into class, flashing his big smile each time he greets me. I look forward to seeing him emboldened in class, deep down wishing I were as courageous as he.
We became fast friends, sparked by his sweet spirit and ignited by our shared love for writing and the quintessential rom-com.
Fernando is a rare gem: kind, funny, brilliant, with a gentle soul and spicy attitude. And, as it turns out, an incredibly talented screenwriter. Fernando has won international awards for his screenwriting, yet here he is, enthusiastically in a class with amateurs like me.
Fernando is not just a dreamer; he's a doer—a trait I deeply respect, especially in someone who faces the daily nuances of life with Cerebral Palsy. Yet, you'd hardly notice he faces any challenges by his attitude.
A tale of my own ignorance; when I first met Fernando in the lobby, I thought, "Oh, that's cute... they have a program here for people with special needs." Our mutual friend later admitted he had a similar thought, wondering if Fernando might be better off in a class with others like him. Unfazed, Fernando replied to him, "That's okay, dude, I thought your hair was pretty stupid when I met you." Turns out, we were both the idiots. Fernando not only blew away the class as the most talented and capable writer but also exuded confidence in acting out scenes, with my personal favorite being his portrayal of what he calls 'drunk George Clooney.'
There's a lot to learn from Fernando. A dangerous combination of ambition and determination but ever an eternal optimist and devastatingly romantic about every aspect of life. Even as his friend, I am blessed to share poetic moments and his romanticisms with him which seem to be inevitable in his presence, and often flow with ease.
He brings out a softer side of me, a side that doesn't often see the light, but Fernando coaxes it out with his trust and humor. In just a few months, he has already left a profound impact on me. In many ways, Fernando is my hero.
11:32 pm, laying on the ground next to Fernando in a park in the middle of downtown Fort Lauderdale.
“So, are you ready to tell me why you're not dating?” Fernando asks curiously.
I've got my script on autopilot: boy meets girl, they fall in love, he panics and disappears, trust issues, daddy issues, blah blah blah. I'm so over this narrative.
When I share this story, the responses I get are like a playlist of predictable hits:
There's curiosity from those who wonder how I've managed to weave through life with such a recurring romantic plot, without losing hope.
Most express surprise that I, known for my strength, independence, and no-BS tolerance, have allowed myself to be part of such subpar love stories, as if they've just discovered a hidden side of me. My honesty often catches people off guard, expecting perhaps a more polished version of the truth.
And yet, there's an empathy and support for the rollercoaster of relationships I've been on, as if they're rooting for the next chapter of my romantic adventure.
Each response, while well-intentioned, feels like a rerun of a show I've outgrown. It's time for a new series, where I'm not just the unpaid actor but the writer and director of my own story.
But, not Fernando.
“Muita areia para o meu caminhãozinho.”
*blank stare*...What?
“It’s a saying in Brazil. You have too much sand for his little truck.”
*blinks, still confused*...What?
“You are out of his league, and he was in too deep.”
In that moment, a cinematic montage of my lifetime of romantic pursuits flashes through my mind, with Taylor Swift's track echoing, "Hi, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me," accompanying the trailer of my blunders—like a blooper reel of my love life.
Huh. So, I guess I'm…a settler? I hadn't considered this because, truly, I've dated some incredible men—on paper.
They were funny with sharp wit, smart, successful, inspiring, and handsome, possessing many good qualities. But most were also emotionally unavailable, hot and cold, selfish, judgmental, inconsistent, and avoidant—basically, the full package of emotional baggage without the complimentary airline miles.
Of course, I'm not blameless; I was an active participant and it's a pattern I've tried to break throughout my adult life, failing countless times despite my best efforts and awareness.
I had given myself credit for weeding out the players, the obvious "bad boys." Unlike many of my friends, I'm typically attracted to the "funny, nice guys" with gravitas and a quirky edge, so I thought I was safe. Charmed by their potential, I often failed to see them for who they really were, or more accurately, who they chose to be.
I spent years blaming myself, believing I wasn't enough, that it was my fault I hadn't earned their love. I hadn't fully considered that their capacity for love might not be enough for me. A result of my unstable relationship with an absentee father, a lifelong ghoster and con-artist—but we’ll save that saga for another day.
I can hear my mother’s words echoing: “It’s not that your Dad doesn’t love you, he just loves himself more.”
What’s that you say? An emotionally complex woman with Daddy issues? I know—a totally original backstory.
While her words carry wisdom and loving intent, they also imply that his behavior reflects love.
It took years and multiple rounds with inconsistent relationships to understand that someone who loves you doesn't act like a love Houdini.
But, alas! Don't cry for me, Argentina. The universe works in mysterious ways.
While my romantic relationships have often ended spectacularly, my post-little truck reflection led me to a reframe my therapist couldn't have crafted better, herself:
Throughout my life, incredible men have been strategically placed at crucial moments where the cracks were formed:
My grandfather, Philip Raymond, my first love, the most consistent man in my life, forever my father. He filled the cracks with gold in my childhood, offering a love so pure and unwavering that it set the standard for what love should be. His gentle spirit and unconditional support were the bedrock on which I built my understanding of what love could be.
My stepdad, Bruce, came into my life when I was a rebellious pre-teen, determined to make his life a living hell. Despite my every tantrum, he chose to love me as his own, even when I couldn't accept it. Bruce filled the cracks with gold in my teenage years, teaching me about resilience, forgiveness, and the power of choosing love over conflict. His presence in my adulthood has been a reminder of the strength found in consistency and kindness.
My brothers, Thomas and Matt, were gifted to me in adolescence through the force of our parents falling in love. Though not related by blood, at this point, you'd never know it by interacting with us. What a bore my life would be without Thomas blowing up my phone his incessant foodie photos, and Matt, with his infectious laugh during our family roasts. They have shown me the beauty of chosen family. Despite our differences and having literally nothing in common, they've chosen to love me, proving that bonds can be stronger than blood.
My best friend, Scott, entered my life through one of my tumultuous relationships in my early 20s. He's remained a constant, a brother, a confidant, and a soulmate in a bond that defies definition. Scott has been there through thick and thin, showing me the depth of platonic love and the value of unwavering friendship.
David, a former flame turned close friend, came into my life after a devastating breakup four years ago. He's shown me that the parts of myself I deemed unlovable as a result of that heartbreak are, in fact, my greatest qualities to be cherished and celebrated. David teaches me about acceptance and the beauty of finding someone who appreciates you for who you are.
And last, but infinitely not least, my son, Felipe, my soulmate, my purest love. Named after my grandfather, he carries forward that gentle spirit. Felipe’s unconditional love has healed my heart in ways I never thought possible. With a simple glance, he understands me completely. When I communicate in gibberish or bizarre metaphors, he needs no further explanation. During the early days of my company, when I worked 20 hours a day, he'd bring blankets to sleep on the living room floor so I wouldn’t be alone, supporting my dreams even when it meant sacrifices for both of us. I would endure a thousand more heartaches if it means I get the love of Felipe. He is the love of my life, and in every lifetime, I will find him.
Each of these men, in their unique way, has contributed to the mosaic of my life, showing me that love, in all its forms, is about giving, receiving, and sometimes, just showing up consistently at the right time to hold my hand through the storms, while celebrating the beauty of sharing eras of our lives together, however they intertwine. They prove that soulmates transcend romance, not confined to it, but redefined as souls connecting and leaving lasting imprints on each other's lives.
And while my story of the "why" behind my friendship with Fernando is yet to fully unfold, I have a sneaking suspicion that I still have much to learn from him and I hope to give him the love and friendship he deserves in return. Regardless of where our future takes us, I'll always thank him for softening me, offering new perspectives, finding a missing piece of my heart, and revealing parts of myself I thought I knew but had yet to truly understand. In him, I see not just a friend, but a mirror reflecting the belief and sense of wonder that I've always had but wished I could pull out of me as courageously as he does. This connection has left me inspired to believe as fiercely in the person he sees when he looks at me.
So, when someone can't meet you where you are, instead of blaming them or yourself, maybe take a moment to consider: you might just have too much sand for his little truck.
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I hope the fern of our love never dies, because how to make a lifelong friend in 10 months has been the most amazing experience! I’m just a boy standing in front of a girl asking her to write the screenplay of their lives with him. Here’s looking at you, kid!