For questions about the email Vicki, your Baltimore Coordinator or to register by phone call (443) 242-4176. Monty was a dashing silver-haired photographer known for his elegant cocktail parties, Elliot a clever bartender in horn-rimmed glasses who was also a sportswriter. Numbered among the most recent crop of emerging singles is my fetching friend Strawberry Shortcake, a wide-eyed Girl Scout type fifteen years younger than I, hence not as scarred by the dissolution and depravity of the 1970s and 80s.
All were bemoaning the Baltimore dating scene while sucking down chocolate martinis and flirting with the ever-smiling Elliot, who sported but refrained from twirling his new handlebar moustache.
He set Strawberry and me up with glasses of rosé and asked what we'd been up to.
I bought a gorgeous mosaic for a veritable pittance, and good thing because Strawberry would not stop anywhere long enough to let me spend money for the next several hours.
We slithered into the long narrow cavern of Leadbetter's, where customers and band were smushed together in two straight lines like the girls in Madeline.
"Loring Cornish radiates sex," according to my neighbor Pam Stein, referring to the artist's habit of engaging in various sweaty and muscular artistic labors on the sidewalk in tiny boxer shorts and nothing more.