I’m gonna tell you how Rajko and I met to celebrate our “one-year” anniversary. As many of you know, and maybe not know - Rajko and I met in Switzerland in January 2020 at a house party in Lausanne. It all started with a handsome young man playing beer pong and an exhausted, migraine-ridden, freshly retired woman walking into the apartment of said party.
Shout out to Dennis; he managed to make TWO star couples from this evening. Thank you for being an incredible host. You are the best, and you KNOW it!
I’m going to backtrack here to set the scene. I awoke at 2 am on January 25th, just one week after I decided to retire from volleyball medically. It’s game day, and we have to travel to the German side of Switzerland to play (I’m not playing, but I still travel with the team). One of my teammates knows another girl we’re playing against and invited us to come out with them afterward to go to a party.
After tossing and turning in bed with a migraine, I finally decided to get out of bed and do some stuff around the house. I did laundry, cooked a meal to travel with, and got some homework done. By the time the 10 am departure from Geneva came around, I had already pretty much had a full day’s worth of stuff done. Because I had woken up at two, I decided the club was NOT the place for me that evening, but I would participate in the pre-game activities - so I didn’t pack a spare outfit.
Head pounding, we departed for our game. We lost and swiftly went to Taylor’s house to prepare for the evening. I was on the fence about whether I would stay, but I had the worst case of FOMO and decided, despite the lack of sleep and the headache, I would stay for the pre-game but depart on the train while everyone else walked to the club. We had some drinks at Taylor’s place and then drove to Lausanne.
We arrived at Dennis’s place. I was still in my leggings, a Geneve Volley t-shirt, my hair in a ponytail/braid, and my running shoes on. I walked in the door and locked eyes with a tall, olive-skinned man playing beer pong. I was invited to play on the opposing team. After quick introductions and discovering that Rajko was from Montenegro, I started hurling insults at him in his language while demolishing him at beer pong. He cried, “It’s not fair you’re American; you should be good at this game,” I was like, “Dude, you have an American on your team.” And it’s true. His teammate was an American guy. Promptly, I said back to him, “Puši mi kurac”. (pushy me cure-ratz) It means “Suck my dick.”
I know I got him right in the gizzards with my ability to speak his language. I shouldn’t say speak; I know how to swear. Which, arguably, is the most essential and primary step to learning any new language. You need to be able to tell people how to fuck off when you’re traveling. Thankfully, my best friend Marin speaks the same language as him and taught me every which way to say “fuck you” and “motherfucker”. This valuable information learned in the summer of 2016 served me very well. Thank you, Marin. (He’s the tall one in this picture.)
After kicking his ass in beer pong, I could feel his eyes searing into me for the duration of the party. One of my teammates asked, “Is it just me, or is that guy staring at you?” Rajko did admit later that he couldn’t help himself. Aw! I am unsure if it was cute or creepy at that point - but since it turned out in his favor (and mine), we will say, “Awwwwww!”
We ended up going our separate ways that evening. I DID go to the club. Yes, in my t-shirt, which had been turned inside out, and leggings with runners on. I can’t believe they let me in, if I’m being honest. I stayed out later than my teammates and caught the 7:50 am train home. I was probably the only person on the train, unrested and drunk. Whoopsies! I was awake for a consecutive 31.5 hours.
I never heard from Rajko, but I noticed a cheeky follow on Instagram three days later. I requested to follow him right back. Eventually, I slid into his DM’s, and we made plans to hang out.
We had settled on a Sunday because he had Monday off, and I did, too. We had both gone out the night before, were violently hungover and sleep-deprived, and I was expecting my mom at 7 am the following day (Monday).
To my amazement, he showed up! We talked the evening away and chipped away at some of the spare alcohol bottles I had lying around my apartment. We had a fantastic sort of “step-brothers” moment where we discussed how both of our first tattoos were a compass (unoriginal, WE KNOW), a brother named Phillip (Filip), and our favorite whiskey, Jameson. In a sort of way, we did karate in the garage that evening.
7:15 the following morning, I had a text from my mom, “Just landed!” Great. I tell Rajko, “Now or never, dude, I’m going to pick my mom up from the airport. You can either stay and meet Mom or get on a train”. This man looked me dead in the eyes and said, “I’ll meet Mom.” Internally, I panicked because who the fuck agrees to meet someone’s mom at 7 in the morning?!?!? Then, I remembered I’m an adult with bodily autonomy and told Beth, “There’s a man in my bed.” and immediately started sweating. I think Rajko, out of pure laziness (which I know now is 100% the case), decided to sleep some more while I retrieved Beth from the airport.
Beth and I stepped back into my room at the apartment, and she walked into him fully reclined in bed still. One thing I love about this man is his level of being 100% unbothered. When he got out of my bed, he slipped on my house shoes, something Beth made a note of. Weirdly, at that moment, I wasn’t embarrassed. We all decided to go for a Starbucks, and they sat happily and made plans for the two of us to see each other again without my consent.
The way I fell in love with Rajko was like walking into warm water. Like I’d just run a bath for its soothing nature and stepped right in, ready to be relaxed and caressed by water that wants me there, too. Still, this man has become my home in a world of chaos and uncertainty. Where he is, I am home. I know I call many places home, but it’s not my physical home; he’s my spiritual place of rest.
We spent a couple more enjoyable weekends together, getting to know each other, and then on February 29, 2020, the evening after Geneve Volley was done for the season, he came out with me and the girls. At one point, I came out of the bathroom, and he had bought a round of shots for everyone. He is a charmer. He’s got rizz, guys. We made it official. It wasn’t until the following day that I realized our anniversary was on a leap year. What an intelligent, smart, and wise man. Only one anniversary every four years, huh? Well played.
Then, COVID. We decided to stay together after having only been together officially for one month. We braved long-distance and the craziness of the world that summer. We spent days and months watching movies together on Skype and Facetime. Finally, in the fall, we could see each other again. He would meet me from Iran, and I would go to Turkey. It was a good half-way point and a country that neither of us needed a visa for. We spent ten days together in Istanbul.
Two days into our trip, he got me drunk on Jameson and then proposed to me. It was perfect. We had started a Lord of The Rings marathon and spent the evening in. I don’t know how many people would like their engagement stories to go, but I’m glad it was just me, Rajko, Frodo, Sam, Gandalf, and Aragorn. It just felt right… you know? Also - the ring that he proposed with didn’t fit my fat as fuck fingers. One ring to rule them all would have gone a litttttttle bit smoother if it could have even fit on my pinky finger. I did tell Rajko I have girthy sausages. *Shrug*
The following summer, we got married in Montenegro! So that’s the un-brief version of our little love story - one I am pleased to tell. We’ve been together today, officially, for one year! Happy anniversary to us! Since we’ve been together, we haven’t celebrated a single anniversary together. HAHAHAHHAAHAHA it’s actually comedy. We somehow are always in different places.
Anyways, thanks for reading.
Ciao for now!
xoxoxoxoCait