Guest blogger: That Weekend at the Lake House

Hey y'all! Soooo, I've been really busy lately (more about that later) and, although a lot has happened, I've been kind of struggling to find the time to write a blog post this month. That is, of course, until my knight in shining armor (Fiancé) came to my rescue, and promised to be my very first guest blogger (yay)! 

His first blog post is a short story that might or might not be based on true events (spoiler alert: it totally is 😁!) and has the ominous title "That Weekend at the Lake House" (dunn dunn dunnnnn). 

So, without further ado, here's his story:

That Weekend at the Lake House

We arrived at the lake house. Now, before you get too excited for me, this was in Finland, the land of 10 million lakes… or something like that. Where it's easier to rent a lake house for the weekend than freeze to death in the winter when trying to run to the store next door very quickly to get a beer without your jacket on. Okay, okay, I’m exaggerating, so don’t go and try it, die, and then at the Pearly Gates tell Peter, your dog Fido, or that long lost relative of yours who is waiting for you that it was all my idea. But anyway, I have been rambling for too long now, so let's get back to the main story.

We arrived at the lake house, first time meeting Kata's family, well, almost all of them, anyway. I had met her mom before when she'd decided that she needed to meet the fortunate guy living with her daughter. And also she wanted to witness my legendary (or so she had heard) Mexican cooking skills and asked me to make some fajitas (I won’t tell her if you don’t). Good news, her mother speaks English, bad news, her father does not. How is a guy supposed to impress and be liked by his future father-in-law without being able to use his smarts to charm him? More on that later.

The objective of the weekend was to celebrate Kata's grandparents' 80th birthday (yep, both of them). They were having a party that night, but the close family was staying at the lake house for the weekend. Meaning, we had a room. We arrived and before saying our "hellos," we decided to go leave our bags in the room. While she was unpacking, I snuck out to the bathroom and came back just in time to quickly nod and smile at a man climbing up the stairs saying something in Finnish. After this encounter, I went back to the room, where Kata excitedly announced. “Hey, you met my dad!!”

🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️

Frack me sideways! There goes my first impression, and those two weeks of practicing how to say hello, nice to meet you in Finnish (BTW, do not ask me how to say it, it was one of those "memorize and forget" kind of learning experiences). Strike one for me. 

After that, we went down to the party, but not before Kata once again reminded me of the same thing she had told me many times before: “Do not drink alcohol in front of my father, he has trust issues with anyone that drinks, even beer”. Given what I just mentioned, it's not hard to predict what happened next. We arrived at the party, I met the family, and - surprise surprise -, when I said "hi" to her mother, she offered me a beer.

Hm, conundrum moment here: to reject her mother's offering (which, if you hadn't guessed yet, was more of a “take this” and less of a “would you like this” kind of thing) or to dismiss the warning, get my second strike, and hope for a hit, a double, or, even better, a home-run with my next try? After all, this was not a game I would like to have lost - to get her father to dislike me -, as it would make for a really awkward family reunion in the future. But I had confidence in myself that I could recover from this, so bring on strike two.

The party continued, as usual, people arrived and people left, it was one of those “we will be here all day, come and go as you please” kind of parties. Mostly, I stayed with Kata while people chatted with each other, but I did spend some time talking to her mom and brother, who - luckily for me - speaks English. Also, there were some other relatives that spoke English, so I was able to have a few conversations here and there. 

Now. This is the part when we arrive at the crescendo of the story. As the party went on, I decided that since I was not going to be able to get that homer with her father, I could at least get her mother to like me (at least more than just as the fajitas cook). That's when I had the amazing idea (please read that last part again with a sarcastic tone) of asking her mom for advice on what kind of an engagement ring her daughter would like. 

Before I continue, let me backtrack just a little. There are three things you should know at this point: number one, Kata and I had already talked about getting married, so this was not just an impulse question. Number two, Kata does not wear any kind of jewelry, rings, necklaces, bracelets, not even earrings. And number three, Kata always says her mom knows her taste in things better than her, so I could honestly use her advice, considering point number two just mentioned. 

I waited for Kata to be out of the room before I asked her mom, because although we had talked about getting married, we had not talked about me buying her a ring. Here is when I made the mistake that inspired this whole story: her brother was still there and heard my question. 

Why is this such a bad thing? you may be asking yourself. Well, because brothers are trolls, independently of how much they love or not their little sisters.

“You are planning to ask my father for permission first, right?” he asked. 

 Now, Kata and I are a modern couple, so I really had not considered asking her father for her hand in marriage. But, of course, by this point I had no option but to comply with the request or I would have looked like a jackass. 

“Of course I was planning to do that,” I lied. “How about the next time Kata leaves to go to the bathroom, I go ask your father and you translate for me?” Although I was not too happy with the current events, I also thought this could be the chance for that elusive home-run I had been hoping for ever since my strike two a couple of hours ago. So, when I had a chance to talk to Kata again, I told her what had happened and we agreed that in a while, she would go for a long break in the bathroom. And so she did, and I asked for her brother to help me out.

Her brother and I walked up to her father who was already in the corner of the room, sat down, and I said, “I just wanted to let you know I love your daughter and I was hoping to get your permission to marry her.” Or so I think I said, but given how nervous I was, maybe I just babbled something along those lines. 

The next couple of minutes were what could be described as a surreal dream: Brother turns and says something to her father, to which her father gives a 5-minute answer. All this time I have no idea what is happening, so I just smile very awkwardly. 

“He said it's not his decision, but Kata’s, but thanks for asking,” was the impressive translation after those very embarrassing and long long long minutes. 

“Congratulations, that’s amazing!” That was one of Kata’s mother's cousins, who'd heard the conversation. “We need to celebrate!” he says while bringing a bottle of some hard liquor and serving me a glass, right in front of Kata’s father. Okay, this will be strike 3, 4, 5, and 10. All at once, but who cares. After that, I definitely need some alcohol.

The weekend continued, but that is the end of this little trip down the memory lane. Before that, though, I would like to finish my story by letting you know that yes, I did propose sometime later (as the photo evidence below will show), and Kata and I are still very happy together. 

Epilogue:

Two days after we arrived back home, Kata received a text from her father saying that he feels like Toni did not translate all he said (which, without knowing any Finnish, I would have to agree with) and that he hoped that his answer did not scare me. Kata being the great daughter that she is forgot to reply to the message, until 3 days later her mom texted her also asking her to please reply to her father. 

Even if I struck out with him, poor man, he was worried for much longer than my 5 minutes for an answer. At least I think these days he likes me, or so my own Finnish Fiancée and translator says.