Whatcha Doin Sunday?

I swung by generic-NY-food-stuffs shop today on my way in to work to get some eggs. As I waited in line for the migrant short-order cook to whip up my breakfast, I noticed that I was A) the only woman and B) the only non-construction worker in line.

Curious.

What I found most interesting was the sheer number of construction workers ordering lunch items. At 9 am.

Now, I'm not union, but I'm pretty sure that these guys haven’t been on the job since 4 and are now ready for lunch. At 9 am.

And yet, one after the other, the lunch orders came in. Meatball sub, philly cheesesteak, chicken noodle soup, and the supremely manly macaroni salad.

As a person who cannot have lunch without at least having a cup of coffee to resemble a hearty breakfast, I was truly at a loss. In fact, I am such a breakfast person that I sometimes eat multiple breakfasts per day. These usually come in the form of a brunch that is scheduled after 2 pm.

As a woman, I've been eating brunch for years. My husband, on the other hand, had never brunched until moving to NY.

He actually used to berate me for brunching. "Spending $30 on french toast with goji berry butter is so awesome." That is until two things happened.

One: We saw Whipped. Most of you have probably never seen this wonderful film starring a fresh-from-Jack-and-Jill Amanda Peet. Whipped is about 3 dudes who all date the same woman. These guys are of varying degrees of awesome (stockbroker, hipster, sensitive musician) and always brunch.

Two: We saw the "bro brunch" episode of How I Met Your Mother. If you don't watch the show, you should find this episode on You Tube. "Eggs Benny Bro Style!"

Following these two critical movements in man brunch culture, my husband and his buddies started to brunch. Every Sunday they would meet at a local bar and gorge themselves on mini muffins, breakfast burritos, and bloody marys. Then their bar got too family-oriented, and when they couldn't drive out the families with top-volume profanities, they moved on to a new bar.

Since moving to the new bar, however, man brunch has grown sporadic. Instead of a weekly hair-of-the-dog rendezvous, man brunch is now a monthly occurrence. I find this depressing.

What went wrong? Is it because you need to pay for breakfast cocktails at the new joint? Is it because these guys aren't doing anything worthy of rehashing on Saturday nights? Is it because they'd rather play GTA4?

I don't know if I'll ever find out. But I'm hoping this post will cause a resurgence of man brunch. Because I like having the house to myself on Sundays to catch up on my bad TV. Oh yeah, and it makes my husband happy.