Stood Up

My Mommy doesn't love me. No, not my blood mommy-- Moppy Haired Baby's Mommy (MHBM). Heartbreak, heartbreak. But you know what they say: each crack brings you closer to The One...

There I was standing wistfully outside the JCC wondering if policewomen really have volatile schedules that change at the last minute or if MHBM just didn't want to hang out, when She appeared. We'll call her Eve. Eve orchestrated our original three-way Mommy Date. When MHBM bailed, she suggested that we walk anyway and promised snacks.

You had me at hello, Eve.

Cheese and celery aside, Eve and I totally bonded. She has mellow energy and the perfect amount of "share." Sometimes with lady friends, the conversation can escalate to too personal too fast. Before you know it you're dissing your husband just to keep up with your new sort-of-pal who is dissing her husband. The guilt that comes after a Sympathy Diss is worse than any hangover.

Or so I've heard.

Yet our date wasn't all chit-chat light. If I was a dude in a locker room, I'd say Eve and I got to first base with our story lines, but no one tried to hit it out of the park. Spring training on a friendship to come? Here's hoping. And yes, the photo is of BB at her first baseball game.