Here is the thing about single Lutheran men: they have roughly as much game as a third-grade T-ball team. Non-Lutheran boys, it turns out, are actually scientifically game-ier than wild turkies.

(That’s excluding all of you married Lutheran men out there, since you obviously had enough game to get your wives. Or maybe not. Billions of years of scientific evidence proves that men always marry up. And by billions of years, I pretty much mean, c’mon. You’ve admitted it yourselves.)

During my infamous three-year public school debacle of the early ‘90s, there was a little red-headed boy in my class who sat a couple of seats down from me in second grade. Joel sat between us. This is critical information. You’re going to want to remember that name.

Then I got fat, dropped out of grade school to live a life of friendless shame until high school, and saw him again once in sixth grade behind the bleachers. Not like that. Literally, like, I ran into him behind some bleachers. This is the red-headed boy. Not Joel.

A couple of years ago, we found each other on Facebook. And a couple of days before New Year’s, when we were both back in Iowa, we grabbed dinner. In a weird, unforeseeable twist of fate, he’s grown several feet, gained about 120 pounds, and is now a Marine. 

(I should note that our waitress was missing her front tooth. She also brought us each a glass of “white zin-FAN-dale.” This, in other news, is what makes Iowa so spectacular.)

But here’s the best part: at some point, I said, “Do you remember sitting next to Joel in second grade?” “Yeah,” he said excitedly, “and the time he…” Me: “Peed his pants!”  Him: “And our teacher had to take him home to change his clothes!” Me: “AGH! You remembered!”

See? We had a great time. It’s like we’ve never been apart.

Except for now we are. And he’s Catholic. And a Democrat. And is now dodging IEDs in Afghanistan.

The point of this extended Dear Abby column is to say that non-Lutheran guys have game and Lutheran guys could use some. Non-Lutherans don’t say things like, “Dude, you’re totally everything I’m looking for” or “Sweet. You’re Lutheran and want babies. We should get married” or “You’re baptized and have a pulse. Let’s do this thing.”

So, take a lesson, Lutheran boys. You’ve got a lot to learn.