A thoughtful reflection on dating and faith appears today in, of all places, The Washington Post:
It was a statement made innocently enough, while discussing the taboo topic of religion during our first date. “We should go together.” That’s right — I asked a guy who I met on Tinder two weeks earlier to take me to his church. “Yeah, sure!” he said. He laughed, but I was actually serious. We had arrived at the topic when James brought up a sentence I have in my profile: “Jesus is my homeboy.” “What does that mean, exactly?” he said, his eyes smiling but serious as we maneuvered around our dinner — steak and frites for him, mussels for me. “Well, I put that in there because it seems like there are so many agnostics and nonbelievers out there who make their faith clear in their profiles, and I wanted to make it clear in mine that I wasn’t,” I said. “I had no idea there were that many!” he said. For the record, I am in no way the poster girl for Christianity. I grew up attending church on a more-than-weekly basis, but entering college and leaving home made my attendance sporadic at best. The last time I attended with any type of regularity was in 2012, and my once-nightly prayers have evolved into “God please just let me make through this one moment” and liking the occasional cutesy-fonted scripture quotes on Instagram. But, after navigating oh-so-many professional and personal ups and downs and still being able to standing upright, I have held on to faith in God, and it has been a long-held hope of mind to find a person who feels the same way. I’ve dated guys who claim to believe in God. But something seemed different about James. He had actually read about God and faith over several years, and had determined himself a believer, rooted in his Catholic upbringing. “I go through phases,” he said of his Sunday Mass attendance at St. Augustine near U Street. “When I don’t go, I miss it.” With that, I asked him to take me.