"I'll Always Be Alice Toklas, If You'll Be Gertrude Stein"

I first saw him when he walked on stage in the first ever production of Stephen Sondheim's Saturday Night and turned the song "Exhibit A" into the show's 11 o'clock number. At 8: 45. 

I was envious.

When I finally met him doing a play in which we both had to wear g-strings, I wasn't just envious, I was full-on jealous. Jealous of his boyish good looks, his winning smile and most of all, his killer waistline. 

And I'll admit it, he was nice to look at on stage in his g-string. Seeing him like that, I had no idea he could cut a bitch.

I found out, though, during our first performance together. I had been doing the show for awhile, he was taking over one of the other roles, and his first words to me on stage were...

"Listen, Sister Mary Propecia..."

No, that wasn't a line from the script; he made that one up himself. And it was funny, too (damn it). And even though the cast had been encouraged to come up with new "cut downs" for each other during this section the show, no one had ever made fun of my (then) badly thinning hair.

Allegedly, after the show was over, I cornered him backstage and told him A) "That was a funny line!" and B) "Don't EVER say that again!"

And he didn't. 

The next night, in fact, he didn't say anything at all. He just waited until I was downstage center, giving one of my big, "milked to the tits" comedic monologues, and while I droned on and on, he laid down on the stage behind me and went to sleep. 

Which is funny to an audience. They were laughing their asses off. At HIM! During MY MONOLOGUE! I thought I was really knockin' 'em dead, and then I turn around to see him asleep UPSTAGE OF ME! And the second I discovered what he had been doing, he raised his head, looked at me and asked...

"Oh, are we back?"

I told the skinny bitch to eat a cookie. Right there on stage. I did. And he did. The next night. At the very same place in the play. I turned around and he wasn't sleeping behind me this time. That would have been too easy. No, instead of sleeping behind me, he took my advice. He had stashed a gigantic cookie on the set and he ate it. While I gave my monologue. And when I turned around, he kept eating it. In front of me.

All I could blurt out was, "He's eating a goddamn cookie." Which wasn't funny to anyone except me and him. That's when I surrendered. That's when I became friends with Philip.

And even though my friendship isn't what landed Philip a spot in TimeOut Chicago's "Date Our Friends" this year, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't pass on the news that Philip is single and available. And it's in print!

Check out his glossy spread on the magazine's site. Who wouldn't want to date someone with this profile...

“I like kung fu, opera and coffee. The beard is an experiment but keeps me warm on my bike. My mantra in life is say yes to everything, and I’m hoping you feel the same way. I have just three requirements for any man I’m hoping to put a ring on it with: You must love Chicago, you must love at least one relative, and you must love yourself—preferably in that order.”

Love it, Philip. Love you!