Why This Single Clergywoman Is Not Your Valentine

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day – a red, white, and pink explosion of a holiday that always make me nostalgic.

No, I don’t read through old diaries and cry into tissues over “The One Who Got Away” or “The One Who Might Have Been” or any One.

I reflect on the pick-up lines gone wrong and dinner invitations poorly timed. Last year I wrote a post about some of these sadly-true tales that you were so kind to read, share, like, and hit over 500 times on this blog. Thank you, beloved readers, for laughing with me at the flirtatious pallbearers and whistling gravediggers.

In honor of the Day You Can’t Get a Dinner Reservation Unless You Called Three Months Ago, here is a second installment of how not to get a date with this clergywoman. I must confess that I used up my four favorite stories in the last post. However, there is always a chuckle to find in reflection of Cupids’ past. Gentlemen, I hope that they provide some insight into why the girl declines to be your Valentine.

1. I am in the dairy aisle, of the grocery store, searching for a carton of organic 2% milk that has not expired. Guy Holding A Gallon of Non-Organic, Whole Milk nearby looks at me. This conversation ensues:
Guy: What are you wearing?
Me (checking arms, legs, feet): Um… clothes?
Guy: No, your perfume. Smells good.

Dear Milk Guy: Thank you for the compliment. Perfume is a lovely gift idea for your potential valentine. But I’d recommend finding a less cryptic way to find out her favorite scent. Also, you might benefit from asking her name before asking the name of what she likes “to wear.” Switching to milk with less fat and hormones could also boost your chances of a date—maybe.

2. I am eating fried apples, green beans, and grilled fish at Cracker Barrel and reading a book about church leadership before a Methodist preachers’ meeting. Yes, it’s an exciting evening. Guy with Chin-Length Hair walks by the table. He stops and leans over, reading the title of my book. He asks, “You’re reading a Christian book. So is that, like, about Jesus?”

Dear Cracker Barrel Patron: You can read! Excellent. We may have something in common. You seem eager to start a conversation, but some questions are better left unanswered in our heads. Next time, maybe try asking her what she’s reading, and let her tell you about the book. As for the hair, Lady Mary on Downton Abbey called, and she wants her new bob back.

3. I’m filling a styrofoam, non-recyclable cup with 79-cent coffee at Love’s Truck Stop. Dude with Tattooed Arm has been stirring his “cappuccino” near the cup lids and staring since I walked in. I reach for a lid, and Dude says with a smile, “Looks like I’m in your way. ”

Dear Dude With "Cappuccino": Yes, you are. Never stand between a 21st century circuit-riding preacher woman and the lid to her cheap coffee. No matter how suave you are (and you have a ways to go), you will never replace her favorite beverage. Also, just because the name of the place is “Love’s” does not mean you will find love there.

4. I’m in the office when UPS arrives with a box the size of Nevada. Inside are a dozen roses and a lone note from “Joe.” He writes that it was nice to meet me at his great-aunt’s funeral and asks if I would like to go out for dinner the next time he’s in town.

Dear Joe-With-No-Last-Name: The roses were beautiful. Thank you. I do have a few questions before I can respond to your gracious invitation:
Who are you?
And who is your great-aunt?
I’ve officiated at three funerals this month and met a lot of great-nephews. I think more than one was named Joe. Next time, do send the roses, but please provide a little more information. Also, the men’s coffee club was here when the roses arrived, so the whole church now thinks the preacher has a secret boyfriend.

Friends, if you’ve read this far, a huge, heart-felt “thank you” on the day of hearts. I hope to see you in the candy aisle on February 15 when all pink M&Ms are half price. No roses necessary, and please don’t block the coffee.

All good things to each of you,
Pastor Darian