Pilgrim’s Progress. That’s what she was reading. He had dated younger girls before and got away with it – there was no reason he shouldn’t invite her to sit with him. There was nothing he could learn from her, of course. He’d entertain her young intellect with conversation in exchange for the awe she would shower him with upon hearing his superior understanding.  Though he’d never been the victim of girls beating down his door, he did not think he was an unfortunate looking man. They were attracted to his confidence, intelligence, and the sophistication of dating an older man.

But this girl was not what he was hoping for. She did not know anything about Hume, had not read any philosophy save Socrates and Marcus Aurelius. She smiled and told him she had bought Pilgrim’s Progress for her boyfriend. Boyfriend? He didn’t give a damn about Pilgrim’s Progress, save that it indicated the young female reader might have a shred of intelligence and an interest in a well-read (over a thousand books, he told her) middle-aged man.

He grew frustrated with her naïveté. Stupid girl. An unsophisticated sheep of religion, smiling and oblivious.  She laughed like she did not even understand she was being insulted. Get out of here, girl. Go back to your boyfriend and bubble-gum, while I ask questions of the universe. Go back to your silly spirituality, your myths; I’m looking for someone who does not deny physics or the impressiveness of my intellect.

She left. Finally. Poor girl. The inability to decipher nuance would not get her very far.

This coffee shop was a good spot for meeting girls though. Of course he was not a dirty old man. He would not settle for any young pretty airhead to boost his ego, he wanted to find an equal. Not too equal, of course, but equal enough to be entertaining and not a headache. They were pretty here. Many religious, but the trick was finding the fashionable sort. The sort who saw wisdom in all religions but didn’t pledge loyalty to any one in particular. The reasonable sort. The modern sort.

How unfortunate girls like the one who had just left were still around.

—

Pilgrim’s Progress. It had been awhile since she had read it. Her boyfriend had never even heard of it until she told him. She would have to buy him a modern translation though – if she could hardly get through the Old English she didn’t expect him to. Sure, some of its original charm would be lost in translation, but this way it stood a better chance of being read.

The man two tables over asked her to sit with him – he had seen her reading and was curious. Well if some old man was curious about Pilgrim’s Progress and about God, then why would she pass up an opportunity to answer his questions? What might she learn from him? What might he learn from her?

But he didn’t seem to want to talk anything about Pilgrim’s Progress. He handed her his Hume book and proceeded to explain Hume’s philosophy. He talked about philosophy, he talked about himself,  he talked about the thousand books he had read. Impressive, yes, but it wasn’t a very profitable conversation. She had come to talk about Pilgrim’s Progress – why then was he insulting her when she was unable to contribute to a completely different topic? She had not read any philosophy, save Socrates and Marcus Aurelius, but he was pretty obsessed with Hume and Kant and wouldn’t let the conversation be swayed elsewhere. She sat politely and listened, not knowing what to say or do.

“If you were a man or an unattractive woman reading Pilgrim’s Progress, I would not have asked you over.”

Stupid girl, they thought simultaneously.