Dear Diary. There's an attractive woman in my cross-training class. She's in her mid-20s and looks like a young Teri Hatcher, or Morena Baccarin (Brody's wife in Homeland).

I approached her today before the class and asked her, "What's your name?" I always ask that question to start a conversation with strangers. They seem to find it mildly amusing.

"Agostina," she said. "I know you. Are you 6-year-old's dad?"

"Yeah," I said. "Wait, do you work at 6-year-old's school?"

"I'm 6-year-old's teacher," she said.

6-year-old's teacher. His actual teacher. No one tells me these things.

(I asked Girlfriend later and she says 6-year-old's real teacher only works part time because she has her own kids to look after so now so he has Agostina as like a second teacher).

Maybe if I was more muscular and had a tattoo sleeve, Agostina and I might hook up and my son would have a new mom.

When I went to pick up 6-year-old from school I saw Agostina again. She was talking to a guy who was much younger and cooler than I was. I tried to make eye contact with her but she didn't even seem to notice me. I tried about four or five times to meet her gaze. Maybe I'm too far down the social standings to be worthy of her attention.

I went to the bakery. There were some other parents. They ignored me as well. It was like I'd died and now I was a ghost. Meanwhile the parents were chatting away as if they were best friends. Talking to each others kids as if the kids were their own.