Little known fact: The only reason why I came to Finland was because I was on my way to Estonia. I was in Denmark when I made that decision. After a few online searches, I learned that I could either fly direct from Copenhagen to Tallinn for several hundred Euros or go to Helsinki for 50 and then take the ferry for 20. I opted for the latter. And since I had time to spare, I decided to spend a week in Finland too, mostly just to say I did. I’m not a country counter, but when I have the chance to check a box, I take it.
My reason for going to Estonia wasn’t that much better. The simple explanation would be that a guy—let’s call him Gabriel—suggested it. He hadn’t been there either, but he had heard great things. Normally that wouldn’t be enough, but I trusted Gabriel. He’s the guy who patched up a mysterious foot injury that left me bleeding profusely on the streets of Hong Kong. Yeah, that Gabriel. He of the Disaster Date, Mr. Fancy Feast himself.
For those of you who don’t know the story, this happened on our first date. Or, more accurately, just prior to our first date. Gabriel probably should have taken one look at me from across the street, my bloody sandal on the sidewalk as I accepted a box of tissues from a cab driver, and just walked away. But he didn’t. Instead, he graciously double-kissed me hello, as only the French do, and then hustled to the nearest drug store to buy a week’s worth of bandages, antiseptic and pain relievers. Within an hour, we were laughing about the whole thing at a seafood restaurant owned by a famous Chinese actress.
Long story, short, I trusted Gabriel. If he said that I should go to Estonia, I figured I should listen.
Johann didn’t know any of that up until very recently. I didn’t tell him for obvious reasons. No one likes hearing about past flames—even though Gabriel hardly counts as one. For the record, we went on that one, perfectly chaste date in Hong Kong and then met up again in Paris a year later for dinner. He was exhausted after a long day of work and sent me back to my Airbnb in a cab with the promise of a second date that weekend. It was then, over the world’s most impressive charcuterie board, that Gabriel announced was engaged to a woman he met just a few days after our date in Hong Kong.
“So that’s what I’ve been up to,” Gabriel said.
I nodded, not sure what to say next. Was I surprised? Yes. Was I disappointed? Absolutely. Had I let my imagination get the better of me, writing out the next year or two with Gabriel cast as a major character? Maybe a little bit. But had I spent the past few months musing about the French man in Hong Kong who got away? Hardly. I had bigger things on my mind. Like learning how to surf in Indonesia and trying drive on the right (left!) side of the road in New Zealand. I wouldn’t say I shrugged off the news or that it didn’t sting—just that I wasn’t devastated because I hadn’t been all that invested in the outcome. I hoped Gabriel might make an appearance in my future, but I hadn’t put the present on hold. Good thing, because it turned out he had been engaged the whole time!
This brings us to the Baltics.
“If I had your time, that’s where I’d go,” Gabriel said. “Latvia, Estonia. Lots going on there right now.”
I don’t know if I decided to book the trip as an act of homage or if I was hoping to inspire Instagram envy. Between working my 9-to-5 remotely and figuring out all my travel details, I didn’t have much time to delve into my subconscious and figure it out. But I planned that trip and a week in Finland besides.
Now, years later, as I sit in Helsinki, I have a bigger question: Where would Johann and I be without Gabriel? One of us may have died of a foot infection in Southeast Asia, for starters. And maybe the two of us never would have met.
I didn’t give Gabriel much thought over the past few years, as is the case when you’re happy with someone else. I noticed, about a year ago, that he embarked on an “IAMFREE” tour on social media, traveling all over South American and Asia. I figured he was referencing the job he had always talked about quitting, though I will admit that I wondered whatever happened with the engagement.
And then the story came full circle. Through Instagram, I saw that Gabriel was making his way through the Baltics and seemed to be heading for the Nordics. When he posted a story from Helsinki, I offered to meet him, along with Johann, for a drink.
“Is there a place where we can get pickled fish?” Gabriel asked, via text. “I’d like to try some local food, the weirder the better.”
I turned to Johann, who I could tell wasn’t really wild about having a drink with Gabriel, let alone fish from a jar.
“We are in Helsinki,” he sniffed. “He’d need to go to the country for that.”
“We’ll just go for drinks,” I assured him. “One drink,” I promised.
In my defense, it was an innocent request. I meet up with casual acquaintances and friends of friends all the time while I travel. It would be antisocial to go on liking Gabriel’s photos while I was sitting a mile away, firing up the sauna. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t had to sit through my fair share of meetings with girls Johann used to date, or, even worse, girls who actively want to date Johann now, a point to which Johann is oblivious.
One drink turned into several, which turned into dinner. Several hours into the night, as all three of us were settling down to bowls of traditional Finnish salmon soup, I realized just who was at the table: the Finnish man I fell in love with and the French one who practically packed my bags.
I said to Johann, “Remember how I told you that I only came to Finland because someone told me to go to Estonia and I stopped here on a whim? Well this is him. He’s the guy.”
Johann, always one for words, nodded. “OK,” he said.
“You should be buying all the drinks,” I joked.
“OK,” he repeated. “OK.”
It’s hard to say if I ever would have landed in Helsinki without Gabriel’s assist. I like to believe in fate (as readers of this blog well know) and that Johann and I would have met another way, on a different day, maybe in an alternate location. But I’m not sure that I believe it. If Johann had his way, he’d never leave Helsinki. And if I had mine, I’d probably never enter. And then maybe, just maybe, we’d never have gotten together and all the rest of these wonderful things that have happened since—my relocating to Germany then Finland; his enrolling in college; the six months we spent living in Venice; the trips to Greece and Croatia and all through Italy—might never have come to be. Maybe I’d still be lapping the world, swiping right in foreign countries and injuring myself on the way to a noodle bar. That might not be a bad thing, but it’s different from what I have today. As much as I would love to take one more extended skip through Africa, I wouldn’t trade it for my time in Helsinki.
A lot of people read my story as a modern fairy tale. They draw inspiration from it—convincing themselves that if this can work, then anything can. Sometimes, when people find themselves in what seems like similar circumstances, they come to me seeking reassurance. They want a pep talk about the stranger they met on business in Baltimore or a guy who is about to deploy for a year to Kuwait. They want me to tell them that they can do it! That I am proof that it can happen. And I do, even though I’m not sure it’s true.
The curious thing about these conversations is that, by and large, people tell me a story about someone like Gabriel—an objectively handsome man with good manners who behaves like an adult and seems to check all the right boxes. But I know it’s not the real deal because they’re asking me for assurances, instead of talking to him. They have all these questions for me: How many days should the first visit be? How long should they wait before scheduling the second? Should they send lots of pictures and texts? What, exactly, is the application fee for a visa to Kuwait? And I just want to say, these are not the questions you need to be asking. And I am not the one who has the answers.
But I get it. It is tempting, I know, to get hung up on a guy who sounds promising. To start rewriting entire chapters to make the story easier to tell. To build it up and embellish it here and there so that he’s worth waiting for. I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, so I just wish them well and tell them to do what feels right.
I should add that I am not proof that these things can work. I am proof that one should take an experience and enjoy it—and then enjoy everything else in the meantime. That they should be resilient and resourceful and unafraid to cut bait if it starts feeling wrong. That it is ok to daydream and be hopeful, but that you should not let your imagination run amok and fall in love simply with the idea of someone. It’s possible that the person you’re talking about may have come into your life for a reason, but not the one you think. Maybe, one day, you can sit down over a bowl of fish soup and delight in the serendipity of it all.
I didn’t know the story of Gabriel and The Bloody Foot. So good!
But wait – there’s still one little detail I am curious about: did you find out what happened to Gabriel’s engagement?
Good question! I had it in the post at one point but took it out because I felt it was borderline invasive. I felt like sharing the fact that he was engaged was part of my narrative… everything that happened to him afterward was not. But I think it’s fine to put it in a comment. Anyway, when we met up in Helsinki, he didn’!t say anything about it for hours and hours. Finally, halfway through dinner I was like, “I CANNOT TAKE THIS CHARADE. ARE YOU MARRIED OR WHAT?” and both he and Johann were like, “You need to relax and eat your fish soup.” Bottom line: No, he is not. They called off the engagement at some point for some reason and I don’t know what that’s about and it’s not really my business anyway. I wish him well. And if he’s back on Tinder, I would suggest he always take along some tissues and rubbing alcohol! You never know who you’re going to meet!
yep. Im curious, too
OK :) see below comment!
The “what if” game is one I’ve played so many times I’ve lost count! It’s fun for a bit, but overall I prefer not knowing what might have happened. It keeps the mystery alive and disappointment low.
I love what you’re saying about people asking the wrong questions about a potential relationship when they ask a stranger on the Internet instead of the person they’re interested in – that’s a *very* important clue to whether they’re on the right track or not!
Falling in love is thankfully still one of those magical things that you can’t learn – you have to be brave and just go for it, without any apps, guidebooks or advice.
Your story is a wonderful one! I hope it will make an appearance in your book.
Awwww. I like the story of you and Gabriel and then you and Johann. When you’re single, you do sometimes look to others for hope, but my hope is that when I find “the one,” the connection will be so cool that I’ll have the conversations and ask the questions to that person directly…and it won’t scare them away. Instead, the conversations may give that person confirmation of interest or something like that. Hmmm. One can dream.
well… you only need it to work once! thanks for reading and happy thanksgiving!!