She told all her followers I was enigmatic.
I think she means it as some sort of compliment, but she’s basically saying I’m incomprehensible.
Ineffable I could accept, if what she was saying was that I was too great to be expressed in words; but she isn’t. She’s just saying she doesn’t get me. Some compliment.

Enigma is an inherently fraudulent word.
You take a problem you have; that you do not understand someone, and you make it an attribute of theirs.
It’s like saying “You are beautiful” when what you really mean is “I am drunk.”

So, we can choose to do a few things now.
I could just carry on being common or garden, ordinary me.
She can carry on not knowing what the hell I’m talking about.
As long as she puts that down to ‘Enigmatism’, we’re alright for a while. We should however prepare ourselves for the inevitable truth that sooner or later she will get bored with not understanding me, and leave.

I could just carry on being common or garden, ordinary me.
She could work really hard to try and understand me.
This could go really well – she improves her mind, reads widely and begins to understand what the Farquhar I’m on about, and I see her new found comprehension, admire her for having worked so hard to acquire it and bond with the new, comprehending her.
That’s a pretty bloody long shot though.
Far more likely is that I will have already pigeonholed her in the ‘nice but never mind’ category, so whilst I may respect her as a person, I will never see her as an equal – and who’s to say when she’s decoded me that we will agree ? It may be that when she understands me, she hates me. Hmm. This is just not the way to go.

I could stop being me. It’s probably for the best. I can simplify what I’m saying and the thoughts that blaze through my (sorry I’ve distracted myself with the ludicrous hubris of ‘blaze’) tinder box brain. That way I will stop being quite so incomprehensible to her. That’s a lovely idea but a) No respect and (should have been a)) Bloody impossible.

She could run away. It’s a very bad idea loving someone you don’t understand. I could be anything: a conman, a serial killer, I could be keeping twelve former lovers in my basement. I’m not, but I could be (I’m not though, I don’t even have a basement.) Maybe the smart thing for her to do is to run a mile and forget she ever knew me ?

You know what ? No two beings can ever truly understand each other.
They end up having to say something like “I like the cut of your jib” and accepting the rest in the spirit of love.
She’s my priestess. I’m her common or garden, ordinary god.
She’s devoted the vast majority of her adult life to worshipping me, even though she doesn’t fully understand me. A better demonstration of enduring trust and love would be hard to find.
I like the cut of her jib.