paranormal has had oodles of studies that support the existence of precognition since the 1800s.”
He smiled into his cup of coffee. “Your use of the word ‘oodles’ somehow undermines your persuasive argument. For me, I think it’s a matter of ethos. You prove yourself a less reliable source when you use such a silly word.”
“That, too, is a matter of opinion. Perhaps the elitist in you feels that ‘oodles’ is beneath you. Perhaps it’s a little too common for you.” She cocked her eyebrow in challenge.
He put down his coffee cup and leaned across the table toward her. “Are you suggesting I’m a snob?”
“Are you suggesting that you aren’t, Mr. PhD?” she laughed. “My point was that there have been studies that suggest that the paranormal is as scientific as any of your fields.”
“Not a single one of those studies is conclusive.”
“Don’t you have faith in anything?”
“I have oodles of faith.” He grinned at her and was rewarded by a broad smile of her own.
“Do you believe in God?” she asked a bit more seriously.
He picked his coffee cup up again and sipped slowly. This was a heavy conversation for a first date. He could admit to himself that he was already crazy about this lady. But their differences in opinion over scientific constitution were difficult to swallow. The religious debate, he feared, might put him over the edge.
“Well?” she prodded.
“I do.”
“ Do you have proof? And you can’t cite the Bible. Some argue that there is no concrete proof that the book is actually the word of God. Give me solid, concrete, conclusive proof that God exists.”
He pursed his lips and nodded to a nearby waitress in an effort to get a refill on his coffee. He might need something a bit harder for this conversation. “It seems I’ve saddled myself with a caped crusader who has visions and is an atheist,” he half joked.
“ I’m not an atheist. I absolutely believe in God,” she argued with emotion.
“Where do you think the visions come from? Him?”
“I didn’t say I believed God was a Him,” she retorted quickly but with a smile.
“Touché.” When she didn’t answer his first question, he repeated himself. “So the visions, a sign from God or fate or what?”
“Why did you wrinkle your nose when you said ‘fate?’” she teased.
“I didn’t.”
“An almost imperceptible little wrinkle. You don’t believe in fate?”
“You do?” It was all the answer she needed.
She shrugged in response. “In a matter of speaking, I do. The first vision I ever had was of my neighbor’s dog getting hit by a truck. I spent the rest of the day hovering over that dog in an effort to keep him from his fate. Early the next morning, while I was still asleep, the neighbors let him out to go to the bathroom. A passing delivery truck struck him and killed him. It seems that no matter what I try to do to prevent the visions from coming to fruition, I’m powerless to stop it.”
“If you believe in fate, you don’t believe in free will.”
“Why is everything so black and white with you, Dr. Archer? One would think that a behavioral scientist would understand gray very well.”
“I’m very good at what I do. Mostly because I pay attention to detail. For example, you have yet to call me Will. When you refer to me by name, you call me Dr. Archer and do so with a bit of sarcasm in your tone, as though you feel a bit of resentment toward my PhD.”
She laughed loudly, drawing some attention from the tables around them. “I don’t resent any of your degrees. What you hear is my dry amusement at your need to remind me hourly that you have a PhD. Do you think less of a person who doesn’t have a PhD?”
“Of course not. Clearly, you are very intelligent and thoughtful.”
“Thank you,” she answered with a knowing smile.
“I worked hard for my degree. That’s all. I’m proud of
He smiled into his cup of coffee. “Your use of the word ‘oodles’ somehow undermines your persuasive argument. For me, I think it’s a matter of ethos. You prove yourself a less reliable source when you use such a silly word.”
“That, too, is a matter of opinion. Perhaps the elitist in you feels that ‘oodles’ is beneath you. Perhaps it’s a little too common for you.” She cocked her eyebrow in challenge.
He put down his coffee cup and leaned across the table toward her. “Are you suggesting I’m a snob?”
“Are you suggesting that you aren’t, Mr. PhD?” she laughed. “My point was that there have been studies that suggest that the paranormal is as scientific as any of your fields.”
“Not a single one of those studies is conclusive.”
“Don’t you have faith in anything?”
“I have oodles of faith.” He grinned at her and was rewarded by a broad smile of her own.
“Do you believe in God?” she asked a bit more seriously.
He picked his coffee cup up again and sipped slowly. This was a heavy conversation for a first date. He could admit to himself that he was already crazy about this lady. But their differences in opinion over scientific constitution were difficult to swallow. The religious debate, he feared, might put him over the edge.
“Well?” she prodded.
“I do.”
“ Do you have proof? And you can’t cite the Bible. Some argue that there is no concrete proof that the book is actually the word of God. Give me solid, concrete, conclusive proof that God exists.”
He pursed his lips and nodded to a nearby waitress in an effort to get a refill on his coffee. He might need something a bit harder for this conversation. “It seems I’ve saddled myself with a caped crusader who has visions and is an atheist,” he half joked.
“ I’m not an atheist. I absolutely believe in God,” she argued with emotion.
“Where do you think the visions come from? Him?”
“I didn’t say I believed God was a Him,” she retorted quickly but with a smile.
“Touché.” When she didn’t answer his first question, he repeated himself. “So the visions, a sign from God or fate or what?”
“Why did you wrinkle your nose when you said ‘fate?’” she teased.
“I didn’t.”
“An almost imperceptible little wrinkle. You don’t believe in fate?”
“You do?” It was all the answer she needed.
She shrugged in response. “In a matter of speaking, I do. The first vision I ever had was of my neighbor’s dog getting hit by a truck. I spent the rest of the day hovering over that dog in an effort to keep him from his fate. Early the next morning, while I was still asleep, the neighbors let him out to go to the bathroom. A passing delivery truck struck him and killed him. It seems that no matter what I try to do to prevent the visions from coming to fruition, I’m powerless to stop it.”
“If you believe in fate, you don’t believe in free will.”
“Why is everything so black and white with you, Dr. Archer? One would think that a behavioral scientist would understand gray very well.”
“I’m very good at what I do. Mostly because I pay attention to detail. For example, you have yet to call me Will. When you refer to me by name, you call me Dr. Archer and do so with a bit of sarcasm in your tone, as though you feel a bit of resentment toward my PhD.”
She laughed loudly, drawing some attention from the tables around them. “I don’t resent any of your degrees. What you hear is my dry amusement at your need to remind me hourly that you have a PhD. Do you think less of a person who doesn’t have a PhD?”
“Of course not. Clearly, you are very intelligent and thoughtful.”
“Thank you,” she answered with a knowing smile.
“I worked hard for my degree. That’s all. I’m proud of
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