I met the priest, or rather the man hoping to become one, in a stationery shop in SoHo where I worked. After a few flirtatious interactions over pencils, he gave me a handwritten letter asking if I would like to go for a walk.
My co-worker acknowledged his handsomeness, joking that the only possible obstacle would be if he were religious.
On my stroll with him along the High Line a few days later, I brought up my co-worker’s comment, believing this to be an opportunity to flash my charm while calming my nerves regarding the impossibility of him just being a nice guy.
He laughed and told me he planned to become a priest but hadn’t yet taken vows. It would be a few years. These things take time.