the poetry is in the pity

Sitting in a cafe in Ballyfin, a small west of Ireland town.
A local priest called Father Frinton is at a corner table.
There is an attractive twenty something girl with him.
My face is a study.
Briefly I address the creator of the universe.
"Are you trying to be funny God?" I enquire through gritted teeth. "Even the Padre is having better luck with women than I do."