Wanted: Christian guy who doesn’t live with his mother

We move on to prayer. Same old stuff. If we were any shallower in our prayers, we'd be floating. It's all about jobs, and job changes, and maybe moving from one apartment to another. But who among us would dare to bare their soul? It's as though announcing our loneliness is like making it a reality. Heaven forbid we discuss something publicly that actually means something to us. Like, it's been six months and I haven't had a date, or that, as sad as the coffee house talent show is, it's the highlight of our week. But we don't say any of those things. We either say everything's fine, or we whine about our jobs and apartments.

Truthfully, I can't really complain about work. I picked a boring profession, and it is a real snoozer most of the time. Since my expectations weren't high in the first place, I'm content. Being a patent lawyer and working with engineers, you'd think I'd have beaus galore to choose from for potential husbands. However, at work, engineers are on a different plane. They're not thinking about dates or women, they are thinking about an integrated circuit they must procure, and since they can only open one mental compartment at a time, my chance of getting a boyfriend at work is about as slim as Ally McBeal's neck.

After prayer, we go into Bible study. Right now we're studying submission to authority. Maybe Pastor Max is hoping to defer some job prayer requests, but so far it isn't working. Submission, to a single, is a bit like explaining commitment to a male. It makes sense, but you don't really have much of an opportunity to test-drive the sermon without a partner.

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We go home to our separate apartments, and we think about submission, but unless the neighbor's cat walks by and we bow before it, the good intentions drift away. I have no trouble being submissive to my boss. She tells me what to do; I do it. It's not a hard concept for me, really. Since there's no one else in real authority over me, I guess I'm okay there.

Max winds up his lesson with a hearty, "Go rejoice and be glad in this day!"

His invocation announces Sunday afternoon has arrived. Now, as a collective entity we will head to a local restaurant, most likely Chili's or Applebee's, and prove to the waitress why we are all single. Kay will order like she's at a San Francisco five-star restaurant, Hold this, this on the side, blah, blah, blah ...

Someone will inevitably snap at the waitress, usually right before we all pray for the meal. The bill used to come up short, so now Kay ensures that all bills are tallied separately, yet another reason for the waitress to hate us. Someone used to assume that tax and tip is taken off the tally, rather than added, and a few of us had to add an extra dollar. It's never worth the argument, but it makes me cringe at the witness good Christians can be: willing to sacrifice their faith for that extra buck.

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