The weirdness of making new friends as an adult/mom/human adult mom

There’s this girl at work whom I really like.

I’m a married straight woman with a baby, so there is nothing deeper here than just really liking her in that way women like other women who are strong and have good minds, deep voices, and fierce senses of humor. She’s sort of my Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. She wears black and white polka dot blouses with red skirts. If I didn’t know myself better I’d think I was suffering an unrequited girl crush.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found it more and more difficult to ask other girls if they want to be friends. We chat, we laugh, we bond over one or two similarities. But how do you take it to the next level without seeming creepy? Eager? Childish? Romantic, even?

“Hey, there’s this great new beer garden in Sunset Park. We can bring our babies.”

Sounds like you’re asking someone out on a date. A very loud date in which you both can’t help but talk about only baby-related topics and one of you inevitably has to put your toddler in an awkward time-out on a bench beneath a neon Budweiser sign.

“I love your skirt. You would just love the Brooklyn Flea–they have skirts and polka dot blouses galore. Want to meet for coffee on Saturday and then drop by the Flea?”

That’s sort of better, I guess? At the very least, the kiddies will be happy to get a hot cocoa out of the deal and adult women can focus less on becoming buddies and more on retail and the nonsense around them.

It’s all very odd–this making friends as an adult stuff.


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