I’m going out on a limb. I have a date tomorrow night. A coffee date with a prospective mommy-friend. This shouldn’t be so nerve-racking, but it is.
I don’t really have any friends in this town since a certain friend MOVED (but that’s another story) and I get pretty lonely going to playgroups and watching the other mommies have a grand old time visiting and gossiping while I pretend to be thoroughly engrossed with Sacha’s tremendous painting skills. Don’t get me wrong, the kid is Picasso reincarnated, but I’m really not that into art.
This is all very absurd. I’m wondering what to wear, what to order when I get there, should I talk about mommy things or should I try and strike up a conversation about, oh, the booming Canadian economy and our fantastic dollar. Do I tell her that I knit? Oh no, what if she thinks that’s nerdy. Or that I have been known to obsess about fashion, or my looks, or my acne, or…
Sigh. Making friends was so much easier when I was the kid in the playgroup: You wanna be friends? Ok!
I can only hope that she doesn’t read my blog and then discover that I am writing about her and OMG that I am a total loser for obsessing over this.
Really, though, what are the odds that she reads my blog? No ones reads my blog.