You're not embarrassing.

I went out with the supermodel tonight, and a friend from University. I realised that I was occasionally embarrassed by my friend; she speaks too much, about herself, and is interested in trivial things. She's cultivated an American accent and is at culinary school. I am also interested in trivial things, but to a lesser extent, I think.

I was embarrassed by her, but at least I could discuss it with the Supermodel. We were never that close, the friend and I, at University, so the gap I felt didn't hurt too much. I felt glad, too- a lot of people that we knew at University that did my course have jobs in the media, or are still in education. I want to be educated further, but I don't necessarily want to go into marketing or something meaningless. As difficult and abysmal as my job can be, I like the fact that it's hard and that I'm helping people, in an indirect way. I am glad that I didn't move to London to start a media career that would have been absolutely useless to everyone on the planet. I regret that I didn't study a scientific subject, but I'm glad that I learned French and German, and that I'm in a vaguely medical field now.

The embarrassment I felt made me start thinking of you, and your mathematical genius. I don't know whether what you do helps people or not, but it is certainly difficult. You are lovely. You'd never talk about yourself incessantly (though I talk about myself incessantly when I'm with you), and you ask beautiful questions. You look shyly at the world, and it smiles back. You are a proof, of a theorem I'm not sure of, but there you are. I want to use mathematical language with you, I want to tap into your codes and embed myself in your system as you have embedded yourself in mine. I could be embarrassed about your faith, I suppose. I don't believe. I'd defend your right to believe, if it came to it. Nonetheless, you aren't an ardent defender yourself; when the other bridesmaids argued at our table, we kept steadfastly quiet. I didn't take one side, you didn't take the other. You know that I am a non-believer, an atheist. Or agnostic. Actually, agnostic is inaccurate, because I know what I believe. I believe that if there is a God, then it must be so remote and removed from us that it could not possibly care whether or not we build churches or honour it in whatever way possible. Surely an omnipotent, omniscient and omnibenevolent being would be free of human emotions such as pride or jealousy, which are (in any case) mentioned as sins? If God exists, why would it care whether or not we built cathedrals and churches to it, or came to worship it every Sunday? Religion, for me, is interesting as a cultural artefact. I like churches because I like the sentiment locked into their bricks; I like the routine, the way that someone has stood on these stones and sang the same songs for centuries. People have believed for centuries. I feel a link with my ancestors, as if we're not just floating alone. Christianity, to me, seems like a Roman or Greek religion; interesting stories, cultural mores and a way of uniting people. No more.

I would worry about discussing this with you. I don't want to hurt you or discover that there's something insurmountable between us. Defender of the faith... I'd defend your right to faith, even though I don't believe. My name, after all, is a derivative of 'Queen'. It amounts to the same thing at home. Fidei defensor.

I've faith in you, darling. Faith that you'd never do anything wrong, faith that you'd be kind. Faith that your arms are the loveliest in the world. She of the lovely arms. So, for you, I could be.

Fidei Defensor.