It was a crisp April evening in Encinitas as I left the sweat lodge. I was glowing from the fire-induced purification and all the Native American songs and prayers, while the full moon illuminated the roads I was to take to head back to LA. I was not looking forward to the 2.5 hour drive in my effulgent state. Heavily dehydrated, I stopped at a Shell station for water and chips. It was almost midnight. I floated in and through the isles and after a brief hello to the cashier I headed for my provisions. The young man -seemingly in his mid-twenties - behind the counter was eager to help me find the appropriate bag of chips, but I turned down his offer. I did not want small talk, I just wanted to get my stuff and get out quick. The place was devoid of anyone else. It was just me and the young man. When I headed to the register, I noticed him staring at me with the blackest of eyes and raven hair- I looked down avoiding eye contact, I was cleansed, pure and vulnerable from the sweat and somewhat shy for not having an ounce of make up on my bare skin. He kept asking me questions and before I realized he was flirting with me, he was already begging for my number. I suggested he look me up on Facebook, but he turned that down with the excuse of him not using Facebook much, which I found appealing, then I finally looked up. A few strands of his raven hair fell into his eyes, which he slowly slicked back with his perfectly shaped dark fingers. I was amused. “I don’t want to not see you again”- he said. “Take my number” he continued and scribbled his digits on a piece of mangled paper. “I need to see you again”. I smiled, took his number and got in my car. “So what if I met him at a gas station, so what if he is much younger”. Any single woman at 41 deserves a short distraction, a moment of fun. I texted him the next day and a week later he drove up to see me. He said all the right things in his text messages with words I have not seen in a while, and yes, the young man intrigued me. When I met him in front of my home, surprisingly my body wanted to run in the other direction and there was a thump in my stomach, for whatever reason- which I now know what it was- I was repulsed, but decided to simply do the human thing and spend maybe an hour with Rogelio Chavis and then have him drive back to his home 2.5 hours away. At the restaurant. we sat next to each other and in the dim light, again, I noticed his dark fingers. Upon catching me staring at them I watched him in slow motion place his palm on my thigh. Chills ran down my spine. Even though he was only a few inches taller than me, and much thinner than the way I like my men, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. And to do it just for one night, one time for he was 23, he said , and I was just there for fun. We spoke about many things, about his childhood, how had been passed around from home to home and abandoned by his father. He also blurted out that he was a sociopath- which I laughed off for I remembered saying outrageous things about myself at his age. After three hours we left the restaurant. “I hate to do this but I need to call it a night” I said. He grabbed my hand. I felt his fingers, and I heard my womanhood loud and clear. “ I want to spend the night with you” he said, “But only if you want”.
Sister midnight found us entangled on my bed aglow with the light of the shy candle. He was the perfect fit. In every way. And he knew it. He loved me up with all that he had and his fingers were magic. When it was time to fall asleep, I had difficulty drifting away as I was distraught by images of gang viloence. I didn’t quite understand where they all came from but what I did know was that I had ingested enough ayahuasca over the course of the last two years in the jungle, that I was wide open to downloads from Creator and as shaman in training, I was able to see things that most people couldn’t. Morning came through my windows along with his sudden voice “I think I really like you”. He held my face with his two hands, his fingers like velvet encased my skin. Then he was gone. Many texts and phone calls followed and he was back in my home, on my bed a few days later. Over a late lunch at a nearby café he confessed his real age. 18. I almost fell off the chair and words couldn’t leave my mouth for a strong 2 minutes. I asked him what else he lied about. He said that was it and the only reason why he avoided the truth from the beginning was because he was afraid I wouldn’t give him a chance if I knew he was 18. I sat there puzzled, then I remembered Madonna, Heidi Klum and the recently elected French prime minister all have huge age gaps between them and their partners and on top of it all in shamanic tradition we do not measure time, we acknowledge soul connection. With his black eyes he stared into my soul. “I don’t want you seeing anybody else.” He said. “If you are looking for a boy toy, I am not it”. But in my mind, that’s all I wanted, pure fun, no commitment for the first time in my life. My plate is too full saving dogs and the world and that’s all I have time for. “I want to get to know you and explore a future with you” he continued. I was flattered by it all and the idea to have a man so committed and love making so refined changed my mind on the spot and I surrendered. “I only want to be with you” he said. “I love you, I loved you from the moment we sat at that restaurant” he uttered a few days later.
The next couple of months were spent hiking, him driving to LA on a weekly basis, going to sound baths, meeting a couple of my friends, him planning to move in with me which I objected to, for it was way to soon. He even went as far as suggesting he would relocate to Peru with me next year, which I have been setting up. But then there were the “dropping off” 2-3 days here and there without communication, or him never spending more than one night over the weekend in LA. And he always had a good reason, a great explanation for disappearing. At four weeks of knowing him my gut told me to break the contact and leave him, partially because of his marginal gang connections, that he admitted to and his "dropping off" when I needed him . He begged me on his knees with tears in his eyes and I bought them. Two days later he told me he dissolved his gang ties. He suggested he should look for a job in LA so we can eventually proceed to the next level. I thought it was too soon, but I was blinded and bonded by oxytocin. Each time we made love our dopamine level shot through the roof, it was like running to the edge of a cliff, jumping off together and free falling into infinity, there was no more separation, there were two amalagamated bodies flowing through the cosmos as we climaxed together to the sound of him saying “ I love you so much”. At around two months, again, I got a gut feeling that something was amiss, that he might still be seeing his ex, who he broke up with a year prior, he said. He denied it, “I love you, there is only you, I think of you every day, I want to see you every day” and I believed him. Then I noticed the Facebook app on his phone, which he said he never used and I wanted to see his profile. He got nervous. But said I can check it out whenever. Again, I had a “gut feeling” but I didn’t want to appear as the crazy girl, so I just let it be. When he drove back to Encinitas that night, I checked out his hidden, private Facebook page to find a photo of him and his “ex” there. The next day I asked him about it and he said that was a part of his past and he is not ashamed of it. My gut was thumping but I accepted his answer, as again I didn’t want to seem like the “crazy girl”. The next few days were spent texting, him confessing his love, him tucking me into bed with his voice at night, occasional X-rated photos, the usual “couples” stuff. On a Friday evening, again, my gut was thumping louder than ever with the sense that there was someone else. We planned on him visiting me on Sunday, so I waited to ask the question in person. We shared loving messages on Saturday, but as if he had forgotten his promise we never talked about his next day visit. When Sunday, June 18 rolled around we spoke twice, each time briefly – for he had to run but promised to call back- which he didn’t- and it wasn’t the first time. I had it. I picked up the phone. AS an adult I told him the dynamic wasn’t working for me. He again pleaded, confessed his love, his plans with me, our future. I listened and smiled, said goodbye and politely hung up. That night he showered me with loving texts. I did not respond for I needed time.
Three days passed and Wednesday rolled around. It was late at nigh, I was half asleep and out of nowhere I heard the name Vicky. “Find Vicky, look for Vicky” and the celestial download began. I started seeing clips from our two-month relationship in front of my very eyes. The time he said he went to Palm Springs and dropped off for three days, than coming back sharing his story with an occasional Freudian slip “ my girlfriend”, which he quickly corrected to “my cousin’s girlfriend”, the long strands of blonde hair I would find on his shirts, the Facebook pictures of the “ex”, the time I visited him in Encinitas and he was not holding my hand and seemed super nervous and unaffectionate on the beach flashed in front of my eyes. “Find Vicky” said the voice one last time. It was 1:00 am. I reached for my Macbook. Went on Facebook, through his friend’s page I found his private profile, on his list of friends I scrolled down to the letter V. There was only one Vicky. Vicky Horton. I clicked on her profile, which was set to private. A beautiful girl with blonde hair. On her profile there were only a dozen published photos, her kissing Rogelio and another of Rogelio lovingly wrapping his arm around her. The same Rogelio that was going to move to Peru with me. I got sick to my stomach as I asked Creator what to do next. When morning came, I wrote a caring email telling Vicky Horton who I was and that I was in a relationship with Rogelio and that if she was too I was deeply sorry. A couple of hours later I called Rogelio to give him a chance to clean up the mess. But he blocked my number. I was shocked, angry and upset. I did write him an email on Facebook:
“Rogelio. I am beyond blown away about this whole thing, your dishonesty and you blocking my calls, I have emailed Vicky and her family about you and I- I am in a shock. I wanted to give you a chance to come clean- but you chose the lower route. You messed with the wrong person.”
I didn’t hear back from him or Vicky. It was one of the longest Thursdays of my life. Although my gut knew, I needed to be absolutely sure that my intuition was accurate and that the young girl believed me. Friday morning met me with another voice “ You are not done Ursula, go on Instagram”. Although Rogelio told me he didn’t have an Instagram account. But his friend did and through that I found Vicky Horton and Rogelio’s private account. My eyes were dizzy from adrenaline when I opened Vicky Horton’s profile to see recent photos of this beautiful bright-eyed girl kissing Rogelio. The last photo was posted a week prior with the caption. “Had an amazing last two days exploring LA with my best friend thank you Rogelio for making my birthday so special. I love you.” The picture shows a long legged Vicky Horton mid-air in front of the Santa Monica Ferris Wheel, in my city, my home, just one day after Rogelio and I spent a beautiful evening together . I finally got confirmation. My gut was right all along and I was played just like this innocent 18 year old girl.
Because I sensed that perhaps the young girl didn’t get my email or perhaps Rogelio lied his way out of this one as well, I sent her a message on Instagram with the same content that I was too seeing Rogelio and that I was really sorry but I didn’t know she was still in the picture. Vicky Horton responded immediately and asked to forward all correspondence to prove that I wasn’t a delusional stalker. She asked for “everything” and THAT she got. From the “ I miss you and I love you texts, to the I can’t wait to move in with you to the explicit X-rated content and photos only lovers behold. She told me after she got my email the day before that Rogelio told her I was just and “old lady” who came into the gas station and wouldn’t leave until I got his number, and she believed his story. But now with evidence, she had the chance to reevaluate everything. She asked me if I would continue seeing him. I smiled and gave her the “Are you fucking kidding?”. I wished her the best and made my number available should she have further questions. The next day I received a message from Rogelio’s mom, she insulted me and blamed me for being delusional and for wreaking havoc in the youngsters’ life and on their three year romance. Her tone took a 180 shift after I sent her all of Rogelio’s texts and ended with “I pray for your son every day and I pray for you and Vicky- I too know a lot about you, but I choose not to insult you and I have respect for you as a Mom. It must be hard to learn about your son this way and for that I'm sorry. Please take care of yourself. We all learned our lessons. Pls don't contact me anymore.”
My job was done.
No, I'm no angel and I have played every part of this equation through the years. And because of it, in my book everyone deserves forgiveness. I have played the part of Rogelio when I was 21 and blindly lied to my then- fiancé about my 2 month affair with a Syrian man . I've also played the part of Vicky Horton when my ex-partner of six years had an affair over one Christmas holiday and took another woman on a skiing trip. Surprisingly, I have forgiven and taken him back. And now I'm playing the role of the Syrian lover- although way back he knew that I was “involved”. In my book I have completed the karmic circle. I've been everything and everyone. I felt pain, caused pain and released pain. We all have. And we have to find it in our hearts to forgive all people, that doesn't mean we have to go back and continue putting ourselves in harms way or in the path of a sociopath for they rarely have a way of changing. I've studied this personality disorder. And based on Dr. Google’s findings, as of today there is no cure. Except using shamanic methods and energy healing if one is willing to subject him or herself to these methods. In the meantime our job is to continue healing ourselves by walking away and detaching from energies that don't serve us. We all have learned a massive lesson. I am going to pray for this young girl's heart so she heals from the trauma she endured on her birthday, because it was on her birthday that she received my email. I'm going to have to work on clearing and cleansing my energetic field and when that's done, I will also pray for Rogelio.
As for the rest of us women. The big lesson I've learnt from this for all of us is to always listen to and answer our intuition, and to not ever question that “thump” in our gut. To take our time to really get to know someone and to not expect everyone to have the purity and honesty that we possess. Be you, only you, fill out your skin, ask questions, really listen, don't be afraid to stand up for yourself and follow your gut. At 41, I feel like I finally learned my lesson and I have graduated from this class. No, not with honors. I must thank Creator for the connection I posses, and to Mother Plant for clearing the channel. And as for the other sociopaths out there, just don't mess with the "shaman’s apprentice".
To protect the privacy of certain individuals the names and identifying details have been changed