I Asked Someone Out on a Mom Date

I asked someone out on a mom date.

I was relatively new to the ‘burbs of Miami, and somehow the transient nature of our city had left me lonely and friendless yet again, as one by one the moms I knew moved back home. I needed someone to rescue me from the monotony of lonely playground visits, and fast. I needed someone to mom with me. So I put myself out on the mom dating circuit.

We met at the social highlight of the week—  library story time.

Casual enough that you can swing playground attire. Programmed enough that you can hold an adult conversation while the kids are occupied. Loose enough that you can easily feign being needed if the conversation goes stale. A good place to meet locals. A high probability of repeat interactions. The ultimate mom mingler.

But while it was the primo place to scout out a mom friend there was still much to consider.

First, you needed an opening. If the other moms were regulars and chatting it up it could be hard to break into the conversation. The old reliable, “She’s so cute! How old is she?” had a high success rate but didn’t leave you much to go on after that. And once you did start talking and hit it off, would you be a play date match? Did you live near each other? Did the ages of her kids line up with yours? Would the gender differences make for challenging play dates? 

Just as story time was ending and things started to unravel, I met The One.

She was the trifecta— location, age, gender— everything lined up.  MomMatch.com couldn’t have pulled it off better. But story time was ending, diaper bags being zipped up left and right. What if I never saw her again?

I needed her to be my friend. I needed her to call me.

I reached for my phone but realized that in my mom rush I left it in the car. Desperately I rooted around in my purse for a spare gum wrapper and with a nub of crayon borrowed from the craft table scribbled a quick note with my number—“555-5555 Kathy from the library. Let’s get together! :)”

“Great, thanks,” she smiled and stuffed my plea in her purse, destined to be lost amongst Cheerio particles and boogie wipes. She quickly scooped up her kids and went out the door.

My cheeks burned. I ruined it— she could smell my desperation.

Everyone knew you wait until the second or third time to exchange info. She’d never call, she had her own life and friends. She must think I’m crazy. Maybe I should switch libraries…

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I asked someone out on a mom date today.

We met at library story time.

But this time I was the mom who was there to comfortably meet my steady mom friends. I was the regular whom the librarian could greet by name. I was the one who could carry on a conversation with most of the parents in the room.

We talked and she scrambled to ask for my number as the diaper bags signaled the end of our time together — ZIIIIIIIIP.

But I saw that look in her eye, heard the yearning in her voice. She needed someone to mom with. I knew that feeling all too well.

And so I broke my routine. I opened my circle.

I asked her on a mom date. And she said yes.