Eat Pray Fail

I've been seeing this guy Norman around a lot. We know one another through friends, but never progressed further than acquaintances. He's a personal trainer and looks the part. He walks into Starbucks and catches my glance, so I smile and say hi. After he gets his drink he comes over for small talk. I introduce him to my friend and his boyfriend.

"What are you up to today?" Norman asks me.

"The three of us are going out later tonight, but first these two are going for dinner. So I have a few hours to kill. What about you?"

"I'm just about to hit up a patio for dinner, too. Why don't you come with me?"

"Like a date?" I say, oh so tactfully.

"Sure," Norman says with a smile.

Once dinner is winding down we get to that awkward what-do-we-do-now moment. Norman senses it and takes control.

"Do you want to come to church with me?”

Relieved that the awkward moment is over, I agree thinking I could so go for a drink in the Village right now. However, when we get to Church Street he keeps heading east.

"Aren't we going here?" I ask.

"No, my church is on Sherbourne Street."

"Oh, you meant church-church not Church Street."

"Are you OK with that?"

I so wanted to say “hell to the no” and take off, but I was curious so I agreed to go. A few minutes later we entered Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic parish.

We take a seat near the back. An old lady beside us looks over and smiles barely interrupting the hymn she’s softly chanting with the rest of the congregation. I’m amazed at how many people are here. Norman picks up a hymnbook and hands me my own. We follow along but do not sing.

Then Norman pulls down a thin wooden ledge out from under the pew in front of us. He gets off his seat kneeling for prayer, along with most of the others sitting around us. Norman motions for me to follow suit, I comply. After a minute or so we all return to our seats. Just as I get comfortable everyone shuffles into the kneeled position again. We get back up and then back down for a third time. By the fourth time my knees are sore.

Jeez, I haven't been on and off my knees so much on a first date since my early 20's.

Then a bishop-like man rises from his throne on the front stage and a bunch of alter boys start filling the isles. Each one is holding a long cast iron Medieval-esque candlestick. Behind us, two women are offering wine and bread.

“I’ve never seen this before,” I say.

“It’s Communion. Go up if you want,” Norman says.

I get in line. When it’s my turn the woman hands me the paper cuppie of wine, and I swig ‘er back.

It’s water.

I hand her back the cuppie and say jokingly, “Get out while you can, the party’s dry.”
She doesn’t laugh and hands me the bread. I say thank you and walk away. I put it in my mouth.

It’s not bread.

It’s a little round chip that tastes like cardboard and plastic. I don’t want to bite it so I keep it in my mouth and sit back next to Norman.

“How was it?” he asks with a big smile.

I can’t talk with this thing in my mouth, so I smile and give thumbs up. The guy at the front starts talking again, and while Norman’s attention is off me, I slip the chip thingy (now soggy) out of my mouth and think what to do with it. I reach under the pew and stick it under the bench like an unwanted wad of gum. That’s when I notice Norman watching me through the corner of his eye.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“You can go now,” he whispers back without even turning his head from the front.

I quietly exit through the back doors.

I ate, I prayed, and unlike Liz Gilbert, I failed.