She: Little League season started and I feel like I’m dating again.

Z: Dude, they’re like, 8 years old.

She: The parents.

Z: Oh. That’s a little less trampy.

She: Every time Koss joins another team I have to meet a whole new set of people and figure out if I actually want to hang out with any of them. Baseball is the worst. Those games last for 12 hours.

Z: That’s how I knitted us a new roof for the house. Time well spent.

She: Meeting new couples is lot like dating. Think about it, there are some pretty bizarre rituals. First you’ve got the introductions where you’re checking each other out.

Z: I keep telling you, I was not checking out that hot mom. The sun was in my eyes so I had to look at her.

She: You couldn’t watch the game?

Z: There was a game?

She: Then there are the awkward silences and the fake laughter. It would be so much easier if we all went on Match.com or could ask for references.

Z: You don’t Google all the other parents and run credit checks on them? I totally do. Is that creepy?

She: That’s essentially what we did the other day, when Karen from our old team gave the good-bleacher-friend seal-of-approval to Lisa and Steve from our new team.

Z: How do you know all these people’s names? Do you actually listen when they introduce themselves?

She: I can’t imagine why it’s so hard to find people we both like. I’m easy going, unless you’re a man who says he “baby sits” his own children.  You’re not babysitting when they’re your own kids!

Z: You don’t have any other prejudices when it comes to making new friends? Like, no poor people, ‘cause then who’ll pick up the check?

She: Alcohol and kids are great social lubricants.

Z: That’s why we make friends at baseball. We’re the truants who bring the margaritas.

She: I’ve found you can spend a lot of time with people you have absolutely nothing in common with if your kids get along and you’re drinking margaritas. Just don’t mention politics or religion.

Z: But those are my favorite things to make fun of other people about. All you’ve left me with are grotesque physical features, and that’s not always as funny as it sounds in my head.

She: It’s a problem. It makes people not like you.

Z: People love me, especially people with grotesque physical features who are religious and political. What about you?

She: Well, I think I’m open-minded, I say I’m open-minded, but really I’m not. I’ve got a problem with racist, homophobic or extreme right-wing people, and it’s not just because I don’t think they’re very smart.

Z: You’re very picky. Why do we even need to make new couple friends? It’s kind of hard work, what with having to remember people’s names and everything.

She: It’s not that I don’t love your company, honey, but sometimes I need a bigger audience. Especially during the 17th inning.

Z: Harumph. I like me.

She: Couple friends are like nannies, only more affordable. They let you bring the family with you when you do something, but you get to ignore doing any caretaking when you’re there. Plus they give you the opportunity to enjoy the thrill of being able to finish your sentences while your child is occupied in another room or at another table with their children. For my money it’s totally worth remembering a few new names.

Z: OK, fine. We can make some new friends.

She: But not with that hot mom you were drooling over.

Z: Yes, dear.

When She and Z aren’t at the fields, they check their e-mail at leslie@lesliedinaberg.com.