You see, I adored Nietzsche and have had a copy of the Anti-Christ (like all the other young atheist aspirants a.k.a wannabes of my time). My inclination towards philosophy was not by mere accident but was caused by a beautifully maneuvered leap from my 10-year old pigtail arguments with Christian Living teachers to wanting to know more about whether the prime mover really existed. You had to appeal to my logic for anything to make sense (which was quite contradictory for I almost failed my Logic course). My thoughts were given justice by Christopher Hitchens in his book “God is Not Great”. I felt that I wrote the book and transferred some of my thoughts telepathically over to Hitchens. I have struggled with this so-called “faith” for years and have been able to legally orally reject any arguments they have had in the prime mover’s favor.
Then something like this happens. He uses an attractive 6’4 professional basketball player who was not only a living, breathing embodiment of a Christian, but was also a painstakingly, startlingly intelligent man as his “instrument”.
Fast forward to almost morning of Tuesday –
Dream boy: Hold out your right hand
It was inaudible and I just heard the word “hand” and instinctively gave him my left.
DB: I meant the other right hand (chuckling).
Aghast at my instant display of sheer idiocy. Shit, no time for me to defend myself.
DB: So, let me tell you another story (while knotting a loose tie in the woven bracelet he placed on my wrist). I have about a hundred of these lying around the house and I give this to new friends (I get it, I’m not exactly special). This never fails to remind me of the past trials, problems… (drowning voice of DB).
My dreamy eyes have now been averted from his face to my hands. My ungodly green- vein filled hands. God, why did you little bratty veins choose to appear so prominent today of all days? The knotting is taking forever, he’s doing everything in slow motion all the while emphasizing on points I can’t really make out from distraction because all I wanted to do was to take my ugly hands from his reach.
DB: So whenever you feel depressed, sad or alone, just look at that bracelet. Everything is going to be alright.
I am. I am looking at it right at this very moment. Kill me now.
I spent the rest of the day ensconced in a cloudy, dreamy/stoned state. Mr.DB Accounting Professor/Professional Basketball Player/Drop-dead Handsome Boy himself left me speechless.