This post is rated R.

Mom and Dad, that’s fair warning. You should probably go back to watering the cactus garden.

Fine, read what you will. So, Saturday was quite the night. Nia and I started out at a friend of a friend’s apartment-warming party on Wall Street. This apartment was all too debonair, and the wine and cheese was all too perfect a compliment. Nia and I spent the majority of the party attached to the cheese platter, and befriended those like-minded people who loitered round the hors d’oeuvres as well. Good people.

Coincidently (really it was a coincidence), we headed out as the cheese dwindled. Another friend of a friend that I’d met a few weeks back had tickets to an 80’s cover band at Canal Room.

Here’s why I love Nia: I was taller than the two boys we met there, and that’s always just plain awkward. So with no sigh or rolled eye, Nia traded her flats for my heels.

So, an hour in to the jumping and jamming, we had to give up. The energy level of the band, and these boys, was too much for our old souls. Winding through Soho to get back home, we ran into a distressed-looking guy, heavily concentrated on his Blackberry. Of course my curiosity (some call it nosiness) was peaked, so I asked him what was up with the face and the phone. Here comes the Rated R part, though it's still censored…

He says to us this: “A girl I know is in Mexico and she sent me a sexy text message asking me to send her a sexy picture of myself, what on earth do I do?”

(Bahaha) “Take a picture, bro”

“Really...well, uh... will you take one of me?” (as he sticks the phone in Nia's face).

“Uhhh… sure...smile…”

And just as Nia is about to snap, the kid rips his shirt off!!!

There we are, standing in the middle of a Soho street, with a half naked man asking us to take a picture of his half naked body to send to his… half naked girl.

And here it is.

One in the light...

Long story short, he’s a personal trainer with not many friends in the city (…couldn’t imagine why his friend-keeping capabilities are lacking). After the photo shoot, he was eager to grab a drink with us, but surprisingly, something had turned us off about him, so we continued on our way back to my apartment.

The kid was relentless. He kept walking with us as we headed north, pointing out potential bars for this undesired drink. Eventually I pretended as if my “boyfriend” was calling me, freaking out for me being out on a Saturday night. We thought the whole "big bad boyfriend" scheme would scare him, but instead, he says, “No one should treat a woman like that… let’s talk about it over a drink.”

Oy, kid. Come on.

Nia and I were pressed for escape options, so we decided to be mature women about the situation and on the count of one, two, three we just cold sprinted up 7th Avenue, leaving him and his pornographic phone in the dust.

Though we’d lost him after the 2nd block, we ran the rest of the half mile back to my place and up my 3 flights of stairs. Adrenaline at an all-time high and with such a good story behind us, we stood at my door catching our breath. Mid breath-catch, a few other building dwellers were on their way past my floor and invited us to join them on the roof. At any given time, there are a handful of people on my roof- it’s a building of young professionals, I love it. Expecting a few people to share our story with, we popped open the rooftop door.

200 people and a legit DJ. On my roof. So crazy, and so fun.

I LOVE New York.