Make it a Threesome

I was doing a little time inventory this week, which is something I don’t always take the time to do. I don’t have kids and the pets basically look the same so time isn’t as obvious as it would be say, for my brothers who have kids. They watch them age and it’s a constant reminder that they’re getting old. The truth is time is flying by for me too.

I can’t even believe I have been in the city for 11 years. The city of course being Toronto. When I came here I was working at Bowring as a Manager of sorts. It was actually very confusing because there was already a manager in place but I was hired to be the Manager of the store. The area Manager at the time was a total jerk and I ended up leaving because she actually became physically abusive.

I was making $9 an hour and was physically abused by this cow. I was 34 and my career had taken a turn for the worst.

I should have pressed charges really, but the embarrassment of it all kept me from doing so. From the very first year of my new life in the big city food was my savior. I would come home from my shit $9 an hour so called Manager gig and stop at the Schnitzel shop across the road from my $500 a month one room hole in the wall.

I never did let my parents see the place. My mom would have freaked. My phone calls to them were always filled with unicorns and rainbows and that helped me at least in the short term ignore how weird it was here.

I didn’t live that far from the Eaton Center so I often went over there because as a visitor of the city, it was the place I knew.

Well 11 years later I still like to head to Yonge and Dundas for a look around. So much has changed. The four corners have become a mini Time Square. Of course you still have your nutters. One guy that for years yells “Praise” as you pass, scaring the shit out of you. I often wonder if that ever saved anybody. I guess his heart is in the right place.

Instead of the corner being filled with interesting things to buy it’s filled with people pushing their religions and culture awareness and it’s annoying as hell. I’ve never been to Hell but I’m certain it’s not far off. I’ve had my gripes on going about the city. I think if I had not rented every season of Sex and the City from my local Blockbuster I would have never figured out how to survive.

The local gays can be Vampires. I’ll never forget being at Woody’s bar with a friend that had followed me to the city and as we chatted with this new acquaintance he actually made fun of my shoes. He was serious too. Like I had committed some super gay crime against Gaymanity. I just didn’t have my bitch vocabulary down yet so I was pretty wounded. My friend wasn’t even that supportive now that I think of it. I think he was trying to stay off this jerk’s radar.

In spite of the learning curve, food was always a great friend.

We would frequent Mr. Green Jeans in the Eaton Center for our monthly inventory of how life in the big city was going. I love restaurant life. It’s the only time everyone seems to be on their best behavior. The time spent with friends is usually pleasant and the wait staff are paid to be nice so it’s fabulousness all round.

Recently I found myself back on the four corners of the city. It was my better half’s birthday and with his arm messed up from a fall he had New Year’s Eve we were still laying pretty low.

When one is feeling like a bag of shit there is one place that can always get you going again, “Downtown”. There is just something about the hustle of the local crazies and tourists looking lost, more lost than I feel on any given day and suddenly you’re feeling back in balance again.

We decided to make it a threesome and invite a very cute straight buddy of ours to a late lunch. We decided on a spot just under where the fashionable Mr. Green Jeans used to operate. This new spot for us was clearly a place where the business people for the day would conjure after a long day hoaring their talents out to the man. It was an attractive place. The employees looked fabulous and most, if not every man working there, was sporting a beard. I was in the right place. I have this crazy thing for beards. They’re just a good thing. Our straight friend caught me on several occasions flirting my very best. My better half was eyeing the candy as well. I know, we’re so bad. Our server’s name was Mia. The only woman serving as far as I could see.

She was outstanding and after some fabulous calamari, thin crust gourmet pizza, Italian meatballs and two bottles of wine we were well on our way to feeling balanced once again after the long hibernation of winter and a damaged arm. And even though the bill felt like a small financial gutting it was well worth it. Everything was delicious and our server was just what you’re looking for in a talented restaurant enthusiast. If you find yourself in the Eaton Center you should really check out Trattoria Mercatto!

http://trattoria.mercatto.ca/

4 kisses out of 5

B.I.T.C

Editor: Mary Ellen Monk

About Bruce in the City

I have been writing my blog since 2010. I was inspired to do so after enjoying an amazing meal with some friends of mine here in Toronto. I decided to tell everyone about my great night and the fabulous restaurant I went to and shazam my blog was born!
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