Last year, the Center for Work-Life Policy reported that 43% of college-educated women ages to 33 to 46 are childfree. When I read that, my heart swelled with hope. Harp music started playing, and angels sang “Rejoice! Rejoice!” It was as if someone had just told me unicorns were real.

And I was convinced that they would all move to my neighborhood and be able to go to the movies with me on a moment’s notice.

Now, a few months later, I’m wondering: Where the eff are they?

My husband and I live in a small town that is more subrural than suburban. We’ve been here for four years. I know basically three people in the area:

Kim, a newlywed with babies on the brain. (You may remember Kim from an earlier post .)

.) Sue, an empty-nester and kindergarten teacher who uses Facebook to share G-rated jokes that involve puns and talking fruit.

Mary, an 87-year-old lifelong resident who remembers when the town was so small her graduating class was 13 people—and they were all related.

I enjoy hanging out with all of these women. They are all good people and interesting conversationalists. But “age and phase” differences sometimes crop up—like when Mary has to cancel our lunch plans because her arthritis is acting up.

It would be nice to have some friends who are my age and in my phase of life. I have no idea where to find such people. It seems like it is easy for parents to find other parents—the kid hanging onto the leg is usually a giveaway. But how do we childfree folks find each other?

Can we all just agree to wear an ankle bracelet with bells? Grocery shop on Tuesday nights? Dress left when we’re at a bar? Affix “DINK on Board” stickers to our car windows?

At this point, I think I am more likely to find a unicorn or a leprechaun or the Loch Ness Monster than a childfree woman in her late 30s.

Where do you find your childfree friends?