Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - Introduction

I love the miscellaneous sale section at Ralphs. Tucked between the dairy section and the packaged meats you can find nine dollar bottles of wine, congealed donuts, leftover Halloween decorations, six-day-old apple pies, Duck Dynasty costume castoffs, cartons of pedialyte, bruised apples, liver-spotted bananas, and Barbie bandaids.

Way, way in the back, hidden behind a few dubious boxes of laxative tea and 100 count bottles of aspirin, it sits.

Our friend, the dented can.

Back when I worked full-time at a book warehouse, I used to read a lot of books (more like skim, but who's judging). One of those books was a chick lit novel called The Big Love written by Sarah Dunn.

The twist in this particular novel is that the heroine was a lapsed evangelical Christian. And there was this one passage that stuck out to me, which I've excerpted at length below, that made me go Yes Yes I SAID YES:

Photo by labullets.blogspot.com

I should have known about Gil, of course. I should have known the way you know about a dented can. But this is the thing: everyone has been warned about dented cans, but surely not every dented can is bad, or they wouldn’t be allowed to sell them, right? Someone’s buying those dented cans. Someone’s taking them home and opening them up and examining the contents and then making a bet about whether or not the stuff inside is safe to eat. And let me tell you, when you’re twenty-five, and a virgin, and you refuse to date anybody but a Christian—and not just any Christian but a certain kind of Christian—your options are all dented cans. When Gil and I finally broke up, I took another look around the church basement, and I had the closest thing I’ve ever had to an actual vision. There sat Brian Berryman. Single. Thirty-two. An attorney. Crown prince of the church basement. So morally upright he didn’t believe in dating; he believed in praying. He’d been praying for a wife since he was sixteen. He’d drawn up a list of all the qualities he wanted her to possess, a list which he was continually revising, and then praying about, and then revising some more, and then informally circulating among the single women at the church. A woman of pure heart, the list would go. A gentle and quiet spirit. A submissive nature. Is this what you want in a husband? I heard a voice saying. Well, not an actual voice, but it was as clear as day. I realized that if I kept searching for husbands in church basements I was going to end up with a seriously dented can. [from The Big Love by Sarah Dunn, emphasis mine]

"So, what, Ms. Blogger, are you saying that all single Christian men are dented cans?"

Yes. Hell, I've dated a few of them.

No, but it sure feels like it sometimes, as if I'm walking by the sale section, scoping out the goods and thinking, "Oh please, Lord. Not that one."

When it comes to dating within Christian evangelical culture, it often feels as if you're screwed if you do, and screwed if you don't (or not screwed either way, now that I think about it).

That's the honesty part of this post--the hopelessness part. But this series (Yes! A series!) is not about hopelessness--it's about those qualities in single Christian guys that make them undateable.

I'm well aware that we are all dented cans. But perhaps a distinction can be made between the can of diced tomatoes sporting a few delightful and adorable indentations from being dropped on its head a few times and the can of sliced yellow peaches in a light syrup that gives you a fatal case of botulism.

Join us next time for a lighthearted take on:

Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Misogynist
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Coward
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Racist
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - The Myth of Persistence 
Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys Are All Dented Cans - Entitlement