Sixty glasses clinked. Sixty women laughed. And for one evening, the acronym meant only one thing: Mothers Into Laughing Freely.

A ripple of hoots. Margot, fifty-three, blushed into her plastic cup. "He's thirty," she said, as if confessing a crime.

As the sun set over the strip mall parking lot, Simone tapped her spoon against her mug. "Sixty MILFs," she toasted. "To not giving a damn."

Simone, a former high school principal with silver-streaked hair and arms toned from years of angry gardening, set up the coffee urn. "Sixty cups," she said, marking a tally on her pad. "We're consistent."

Pat, a retired firefighter, hoisted a case of rosé onto the table. "Tonight's agenda," she announced. "First: book club. Fifty Shades was garbage, we all agree. Second: who's dating that new pilates instructor?"