Girls like Me.

This is the perfect writing seat, I think.

Right now I’m on the mega bus heading back to Iowa City to shoot my first wedding (Yes. Ever. Yes. I’m petrified.). This bus is freezing cold; and I’m thankful, especially we waited about an hour for a bus because the original one had no AC. I’m on the top of a double-decker, in a window seat, listening to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and reenacting the music video in my mind. The woman behind me is hacking her lung out and the man beside me is talking to himself about how he cannot fall asleep. Yep. I’m feel rather pensively profound.

As I felt myself aging while waiting for the bus to arrive, I read an article by John McTavis on Barth’s approach to Theistic Proofs (see, Barth didn’t believe in logical proofs of God’s existence, saying that it was always detrimental to begin with carnal to prove the divine. Rather, he points to the Word of God, the Church, Israel’s history, etc…. utterly fascinating stuff! Alas…that is not what I intended to write about … I digress.) The cutie petutie next to me with the sunglasses and abs tipped those sunglasses down ever so slightly and looked at me over the rims. “Is that important,” was his flirtatious question.

Now, I need to make a disclaimer here. I am not often flirted with. Let me rephrase that. I am not flirted with often enough. But when I am, I am so much better of a person. I relinquish my road-raged grip on the steering wheel, I opt out of staring down the driver going the speed limit, I keep all my finger to myself as I bike the lakeshore, and I may even, just maybe, perhaps let you get away with some sassy remark even though I know I could own you with one perfectly crafted statement. I know, I know … I hear your retorting, “wow, Amy. That’s pretty arrogant. It’s not just that you should lay off the caffeine, but that’s downright ungodly!” Well, you’re right. Flirt with me then. It’s a matter of holiness.

Anyway… back to the mega bus stud (oh, that reality totally ruins it)….

He was asking if what I was reading was important…

Out of reaction I said no. I lowered it to see what he would follow with. “So, are you from Iowa City,” was the reply. “Yes, actually,” I cordially responded. “I’m going home for a wedding.”

“Bummer, me too.”
“What? No, I love weddings. I’m actually the photographer for this one.”
“Me too. I just needed a pretty lil date and you seem like a perfect candidate.”
“Oh. Well, thanks” (yes, totally blushing. I can’t help it.) “But like I said…”

And with that, I went back to my reading. (See, I was at this part about how Barth defended his position on logical theistic proofs by showing how the Word of God (Jesus Christ) is the very self-revelation of God to all humankind. Many of his contemporaries accused him of being too harsh or dogmatic, but Barth just seems to shake his theological head and says it simply could not be any other way. The call of Christ must come from God’s self-attesting One, namely Jesus Christ. Arg… yes, this is not what I was writing about, was it…)

“Wait… that’s it?” He was interrupting again.
“Sorry?” I responded. I was confused. And a bit frustrated, I think.
“I mean that it? We’re done here?”
first of all, I didn’t know we started anything. Second of all, great abs vs. Barth. Seriously? Don’t make a girl be rude…
“I mean, done with what?”
“I thought you said that wasn’t important.” He said it condescendingly, like I should prefer to stare into his eyes, keeping up this miniature drama.
“well… now that you mention it…” And at that point, I decided to tell him all about Barth…then Luther … then Calvin. I ended by telling him about how radical the Reformation, especially when you consider the way Christ expressed the nature of the Church as His very Body on earth!
“I thought you said that wasn’t important.” He repeated himself.
“Well, I was wrong,” I shrugged. With that, I went back to my reading (I’ll tell you about it sometime…). ☺

for girls like me, life isn’t usually like a movie; but just then I felt like I had a little scene of my own. I was thankful that very shortly after that last little comment the bus came, we boarded, and never saw each other again. It was a perfect movie-like ending. As I sat to my seat, I felt like I could see it replaying again in my mind. I watched myself read excitedly and underline with great ferocity, blush when he called me pretty, consider attempting to flirt back, and victoriously end the conversation with the final word. Girls like me would really do think what we’re reading is important, and most of the time the response we most readily give is related to the article in our hands. Girls like me don’t know how to flirt your way, so we rarely try. Girls like me blog about the boys that flirt with them (notice how this is the first time I’ve written on the topic? Seriously! I need more flirting in my life…) Girls like me get the last word every once in a while and when we do we celebrate by listening to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” (yes, it’s on repeat).

Girls like me…