When the Yoga Teacher Fantasy is Far From Fulfilled

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After months of yoga and flirty small talk with the instructors, I built up the courage to ask one of the instructors out.

I met her late night at a bar downtown to find her two drinks ahead of me. Two more and she was dancing. For a woman so composed and graceful in class, it was unbelievable how little rhythm she had. We laughed and continued our flirt. She invited me back to her place. I drove her car back. Her place was a mess…clothes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes in the sink, leftover takeout chinese on the kitchen table, dozens of half empty shampoo bottles in the bathroom, and an unmade bed. It was a red flag, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

We hooked up. I turned down sex given her drunk state but we we had fun. Late night, she passed out and I stayed the night. I woke to a 3am alarm and a slight moist feeling. She was out cold. I hopped out off her bed to turn off the noise. “Who has a 3am alarm?!” I asked myself.

I looked back at the bed to find my yoga instructor stark naked in the fetal position with a halo of urine around her. A dozen things ran through my mind…Did I piss her bed? I was completely dry, so definitely not. I looked at the ceiling for a leak. Nothing there. I noticed a second set of sheets on the floor, likely from an accident earlier in the week. Now I knew what the alarm was for…

In the early morning she tried to play off like I pissed her bed. I held my ground, she then brushed off the whole thing as a non-event and tore the sheets off her bed.

I continued with yoga. The flirting dwindled, but she was professional enough not to let the whole thing make for awkward classes. So much for hot yoga instructors…

Story courtesy of Alex. P.

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