Come here often?

Maybe it's because I was too busy creating art and poetry (read: drinking heavily and having esoteric debates with platonic lovers) in college, but I was never into the whole pick-up scene. I didn't go to bars and clubs to give out my number and then sit by the phone waiting for a call, and nor did I get someone's digits and then debate with my friends on when/if I should call him and what I should say. Today, I've turned that whole "I never" part of my personality on its ear and picked up a mom at Trader Joe's. Yes, that's right, I got someone's digits for the first time in my life. How hot.

I was shopping with Clementine, she was shopping with her cute little boy all snug in his sling, and after some quick "How old is yours?" banalities, we parted ways. But then I ran into her in the next aisle and the next. She laughed at my joke about living in what we call "Ferndale East" so we don't ever have to cop to living in a suburb the rest of Metro Detroit calls Hazeltucky, and I sympathized with her stories of feeling isolated and too young (at 30) to be a mom. I thought I lost her for a while in the tortilla chip section, but I passed her again as I was making my way to the check-out aisle and summoned up the courage to ask for her number. "Oh, I was going to ask you for yours, too, but I didn't want to seem dorky," she said. "I just don't have too many mom friends." As it turns out, though my circle is expanding a bit with Debby, Lisa and now Courtney, me neither. Are we a match made in the supermarket or what?

When I told my sister, she said she was just reading an article in some terrible parenting magazine that suggested making business-like cards with your name, your kids' names and ages and your preferred contact information for handing out in the park in case you meet the playdate of your dreams. "It's so much easier than digging for a pen and then having to write your number on the back of your grocery receipt from the time you bought Perparation H," my sis argued. But even she had to admit we would mock the mom who handed those little beauties out. Yeah, it sounds convenient, but there's something just a little too...prepared about it. Moms that perfect and prepared make me nervous. Instead, Ruth dug out a pen, I used a little Trader Joe's card, and now we have officially exchanged numbers.

Now I guess the only question is how long I have to wait before I call.