For months, I’ve been internally debating signing up for this local moms network thingy on the internet.
The object of the site is to get you in touch with fellow moms that live near you so that you can make friends or something. Friends that don’t live miles away like most of you do. Which reminds me, why don’t you live closer?
So I went to the site yesterday and started entering my info. One of the required fields was my zip code. Because how can you find other moms in your area if they don’t know what your area is?
But rather than signing up for a lifetime of awesome friends who have everything in common with me and who might even live next door – I just have no idea because I’m in my own little vortex most days – I froze.
And I thought.
And rationale went out the window.
What if these aren’t other mothers? What if these are like, creeps? Creeps in friendly, relatable disguises?
Fast forward to last night’s pillow talk.
I tell my husband all about my dilemma. I sheepishly let him know that I almost gave a bunch of potential weirdos our address. He laughed as I told him about the commercials that made this network sound so promising, That because I thought so irrationally, I might be sacrificing some actual…
He abruptly interrupts.
And I was all “What? Like, cosmetics? Because that doesn’t even make sense. And you totally interrupted me! I appreciate you’re input, but it has to make sense or…”
And then I heard snoring. Loud, sounds like he’s been sleeping for hours, kind of snoring.
It’s no wonder I talk to myself. Or that I’m willing to risk my safety for a maybe-friend.