My mother was right. All these years she dressed me up, combed my hair, and marched me out the door on Sundays were working up to this. No, no, not my salvation, but I’m sure I’ll thank her for that later. For now I’m too preoccupied with my newfound discovery! I stumbled upon this clean-shaven jackpot at Our Lady of Mt Carmel this Easter Sunday. I have FOUND them. The dreamy, family-flanked, dressed-in-their-Sunday-best gentlemen of Chicago, standing, sitting, and kneeling in perfect unison, backlit by the glow of the stained glass windows and scented with the sweet perfume of incense. Not to mention the timely Hallelujah chorus.

I knew it was too good to be true. ‘Cause if there’s one thing I learned from Mother over my years of churchgoing, it was to keep my eyes front, my mouth shut, and my legs together. Surely this is no place for a romantic rendezvous, but can I get away with a peek over the shoulder, or a shy smile during the Sign of the Peace? ...If only I was allowed to give “the eyes” in the presence of the Lord.

This chaste church experience alerted me to a sobering truth about the dating world-- It’s frightfully narrow. All of our potential mates get squeezed through a narrow passageway known as The Bar, where all of our meeting and greeting is expected to take place. Well, what if Mr/ Ms. Right happens to be in the Wrong place at the Wrong time?

Like, at the end of a movie in a movie theater that does not encourage talking, smoking, or cell phones. Now I’m certain that I’ve come across instances of potentially meeting the man of my dreams, only to realize that it is neither the time nor the place for romancing. For instance, I ride the L at 6 AM. No one wants to be hit on before noon, and that’s that. Or the other night I was walking out of Blockbuster, and passed a cute guy heading in. What could I have said? “Blockbuster!? No way! Funny story…” would have primarily quickened his pace. Maybe, “Ahhh! Don’t go in there, the building is on fire!” would at least have grabbed his attention, as well as keeping him outside where I could ask lots of questions about his hobbies and workout regime.

No, no. Instead we’re restricted to bars, singles nights, and the occasional grocery cart collision as acceptable settings to pick up a date. What to do? We either have to expand the playing field and turn church/blockbuster parking lots/doctor’s offices/the 45yard dash into a singles paradise, OR trust that Fate will be kind enough to plant ourselves and our soul mate in a broken down elevator with a bottle of Moet in hand.

Now, as for church, there’s not much I can do besides, well, pray. And hope he shows up to the coffee social in the basement. Then again, as with all unfortunate missed connections, one can always post on Craigslist. “Saw you in church. Lookin' good… Same time next week?”

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