Mormon + Single = Your own personal AA

Recently, a friend has been saying that I should get together with a male friend of theirs. Apparently, said friend has made similar comments to said male friend as well, but we still have not yet gotten around to meeting. So today, I received the following forwarded email, as 'evidence' that NOW is the time to make a move on this guy, because he's READY.

Subject: Longest Ride Home. Ever.
After we got out of the cab in Clarendon last night, I suddenly started to feel pretty tired. I think the Sparks started to wear off at that point, because it certainly had nothing to do with drinking since 3:30pm. I had $7 in my wallet, and my debit card was mysteriously denied the $12 charge at roller derby, so a cab was out of the question. I headed to the Metro.
Ten minutes later, an Orange Line train heading back into town arrives. I was snoozing for a bit, but I've historically been very good about waking up to get on the train, and waking up at my stop.
Low and behold, when I woke up, it was 3:05 AM, and we were at Landover. Let me repeat that: LANDOVER. That's only 9 stops and 19 minutes BEYOND where I was supposed to transfer at L'Enfant Plaza. Of course, the last train headed back to L'Enfant Plaza had left half an hour earlier. Not knowing what else to do, I kept going on the Orange Line to New Carrollton, knowing there was an Amtrak station there. I was hoping I could snooze in the train station, and catch a very early morning train to Union Station.
I exit the Metro, paying the rush hour fare since it was late-night, putting my card into negative territory. I find the Amtrak station, and find a convenient sign that says, "Station Hours: 5AM - 9PM". It was currently 3:30 AM and freezing outside. (&*$%.
I summoned my ghetto skillz, and found an enclosed stairwell that led up to the train platform. There were already two neighborhood gentlemen snoozing at the bottom, so I took residence on the first landing, using the step as a pillow. I was awoken by a friendly Amtrak Police officer, tapping my feet with his nightstick.
Thankfully, though, it was 4:50 AM (Thank God my phone hadn't quite died yet). I went to the station entrance, and waited 10 minutes for them to open the doors. When I get inside, I find that the next train to Union Station wouldn't arrive until 6:44 AM. I grudgingly buy a ticket with my seemingly now-working debit card, use the restroom, and take yet another drunken snooze.
Thankfully, I woke up in time to get on the train, grabbed a chicken biscuit and breakfast burrito at McD's with my last 2 bucks, and took the Metro home. I think I finally got here somewhere around 8:15 this morning.
Sometimes, I think meeting a nice, Mormon girl wouldn't be such a bad thing for me.

Now let me just say that New Carrollton is not the best area in the world, let alone the enclosed stairwell of the Amtrak station of the New Carrollton Metro Stop. And THIS is the kind of guy that is interested in Mormon girls around here. The Mormon guys aren't interested. No, not so much. But guys like this - guys who need an intervention more than they need a date.

And that's not even the worst part. The saddest thing is this: my first thought wasn't 'I can't believe anyone I know would think I would be interested in a guy like that.' Oh, no. My first thought was actually: 'Well....Grammar wasn't perfect, but he didn't misspell anything...' I think I may need an intervention, too...