One of the Muslim student at the college where I work asked me to give a talk to his club about Morality, I was honored. He at first believed me to be a Rastafarian, nope, just love wearing dreadlocks.
I agreed to give my talk at the “conference” I planned my talk about what I believe to be the ideal of living a moral life. I was the only woman on the panel, there was a Rabbi, a priest me and later an Islamic minister, not the Imam.
The minister walked in and low and behold dude was fine, fine in the sense that I wanted to give him my number after he finished his talk. This is funny because here I was sitting on a panel speaking about morality and all I could think about was if the Minster was married, did he have children, what size shoes did he wear, was he a good minster, and how can I give him my number?
I think he knew I was interested in more than the fact that he could speak Arabic, I think there was a spark from him as well, I could tell he was checking me out. In Islam, no sister would ever approach a brother and especially not a minister, to ask him these questions. So there I sat, checking out the Minster, wishing I could just hand him my number and throw Morality to the wind.
Morality me and the Minster may not be a good fit…..but then again, I haven’t been to the mosque in a while!
