Last night I was out drinking wine and listening to jazz with A and NYCeCe.
We had not all been out together in awhile and it was great to catch up on a lot of things. At one point we remembered one of those great city stories that is blog worthy. NyCeCe promised to write it and if she does I will link it here but I'm going to do my half assed version anyway.
One summer night several years ago I was headed to meet NyCeCe at her job on the Upper West Side. I did this frequently so I usually stood outside the employee exit and waited for her to come out. I was still a block or two away from her job when an extremely attractive man stops me in the street. He started telling me how stunning I am (which in this city happens to everyone everywhere) but I was a little surprised by his behavior. I thanked him and tried to keep walking but he followed me. "I know this is awkward and I don't want to scare you but I'm in a bad situation and I was hoping you could help."
I'm not usually very nice to strangers but he had captured my interest. After all, he was damn hot. He told me that he recently became homeless and needed a place to stay. He asked me, a stranger in the street, if he could come home with me. I laughed and said I wasn't going home, I was going to meet a friend at her work. Then I commented that he certainly didn't look homeless.
I kept walking. He followed. "Do you mind if I join you while you wait for your friend?" He was kind of charming. Sure attractive homeless guy. You can wait with me in the street because NyCeCe has to see this.
It was worth it. She came out of that employee exit, saw me standing with this guy and I could see the "Who's the hottie?" look on her face. I introduced him by name and then promptly announced, "We just met. He's homeless." So we invited him to join us for a pitcher of Sangria.
As we drank our fruity wine we were asking him questions about why he was homeless and where he had been staying. Basically, we were trying to figure him out. It didn't make sense. In the meantime he is hitting on both of us and trying to get one of us to invite him home. On the one hand, the guy needed help. On the other, we are not stupid. Visions of Charles Manson are going through our heads. So we both told him over and over again that we were very sorry but neither of us would be providing his shelter for the night. Then he pulled out a $20 and tried to pay for the Sangria. What? Where did that come from? No homeless man, this one is on us.
I don't really remember what happened after we left that place. I think we basically ran so the guy would stop following us.
This is only one of the many, many odd outings we have shared. I like this story. I frequently wonder where the hot homeless man is now. I wonder what lucky lady finally did take him home. I also wonder if he killed her. Ah, good times.