FLASHBACK #39: Trapped By The Religious

Ever felt like a hostage? Ever visited a friend, found yourself in an awkward situation that seemed impossible to get out of? Just after Midsummer 2003, the religious girl in the office (click here to see January 2003 entry) invited me around to her parent's place one afternoon after work for a coffee. It was a lovely day, the sun was shining and I had spent enough of the warm, sunny evenings on my own so I felt honoured to be invited into a Finnish family home.

After work, I followed my colleague in her car to a small village, just north of the City of Tampere. When we arrived, I was greeted by an angry German Shepherd who barked agressively as I approached the house. Unchained, the dog continued to bark, making no physical attempt to prevent me from entering the house. All bark, the dog was!

As we entered the wooden, detached house with it's own grounds, I was greeted by my colleague's parents, their other daughter and their son, who was the youngest at 18. I felt like I was a new boyfriend, meeting his potential future in-laws for the first time.

They had prepared a wonderful dinner and I was very impressed. After the main course, the three siblings got up from their chairs and positioned themselves around a nearby piano. My colleague manned the piano, and began playing away. As a trio, they sang what could only be described as a series of religious songs. Totally disinterested in religion in all of its forms and a hardcore fan of Ministry of Sound music, I just didn't want to listen. Nothing can put into words how relieved I was when they finally stopped and, gracing what must have looked like a false smile, I applauded them.

As the children returned to their places at the dinner table, I looked towards the parents, each of whom were sitting at either end of the long dinner table. They glared at me, knowingly. It was then that I knew what my colleague was trying to do. She was trying to guide me back onto the path of goodness. Clearly, I had lost my way and was in dire need of guidance. I was furious inside, but I let it go, taking the time to enjoy the dessert that was now placed on the table.

As soon as the dessert was consumed, my colleague appeared behind me. I looked up and she announced, oh-so-proudly, that the family had something for me. Seconds passed and, on the dinner table, appeared the gift; my very own personal copy of the Bible. I don't know why my heart was beating hard nor why my hands were sweating. All the people around the dinner table looked at me earnestly. I backed away from the table suddenly, asking if I could use the toilet.

Downstairs, in the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. I knew that they were good people, but what was unfolding upstairs was orchestrated intimidation. When I returned to the dining room, I thanked them for the Bible. My colleague told me I hadn't looked inside the cover and, still standing, she held the cover open and showed the first page to me; the signature of each person in the room was cutely scrawled across the page. That was enough! These people weren't friends and I wasn't going to be 'recruited' or 'welcomed into the fold' under duress.

Shortly afterwards, when my colleague and I were alone, I cast her a nasty look. I asked her what the hell she was doing. She said I need to be guided back into the light, into the goodness. I told her that I respected her view, but I didn't want her faith to form a part of our friendship. Likewise, what I do in bed or how I get my jollies isn't part of our friendship. I could see from the look on her face that she knew she had failed to get me on board. For sure, I knew then that that had been her intention.

It was a very character-defining experience. The mix of emotions I felt, the embarassment, the rage. I always respected her views, but her faith proved to be so strong and I knew she was never going to accept me. When I left Tampere to move to Helsinki little more than two months later, we never spoke again.