the flakey yogi

Yep, you guessed it.  Mason.

So as I said, things were good.  He texted frequently, he paid me special attention in class, we got sushi after… and I waited to be asked on the next date.  You know, one that was not about me going to his class and that didn’t end with me caked in the salt of my own sweat (not the sexiest feeling).  And I kept waiting. 

His texts were getting less frequent and I was starting to get irritated about his lack of initiative when I attended a special yoga event.  He, of course was there, and when he caught sight of me, he greeted me warmly with a big smile and hug.  During the event, we were asked to do a lot of partner things, I couldn’t help but notice he was paired with an attractive woman that was probably also in her late 30s.  When the event ended, he approached me and suggested I grab dinner at the nearby Italian restaurant with him and some other instructors.  He introduced me to the lady that I’d seen him practice with, and I saw her drop off her mat in his car.  So they came together.

After dropping off my mat in my own car, I arrived to the restaurant to find him saving a spot for me beside him.  His lady friend was seated across.  The dinner was awkward to say the least, as I tried to figure out the nature of their friendship.  She was flirtatious with him and insisted that they share a meal, but they split the bill.  He did acknowledge me throughout the dinner, but he also spent a while visiting friends.  I made the best of it by getting to know the other yoga teachers at the table.  Still, I didn’t feel too fabulous about the whole thing.  When it came time to say goodbye, he asked if I was coming to his class the next day, and I responded, pathetically, “Do you want me to?”  “Of course!” he said, sounding genuinely surprised.  I suggested we get breakfast after (yes, a tad desperate), and he agreed.  During the breakfast the next day, we had a good time.  He talked about wanting to go to Hawaii and suggested that I come with him.  Phew, I thought privately.  We’re good.

But, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, we were not good.  He would suggest plans and then not follow through.  His texts became more infrequent.  I wish I could say I didn’t put up with his shenanigans, but the truth is, whenever he got in touch, I couldn’t resist responding, convinced if we hung out just one more time, things would get back to good.

Finally I cut my losses and stopped going to his classes.  One day after a month of silence he texted me randomly, “Wanna make out?”  I found that such a pathetic and absurd comeback that I could only laugh, though maybe the joke’s on me if he really thought I would go for it.  “I think it’s a little late for that,” I responded.  He replied with a frowney face and, “A hug?”  I wrote back, “Sure, when I see you around.”  I did eventually attend his class again, in which he almost shyly approached me for a hug and to say how good it was to see me.   But this time his quirky charm didn’t win me over.  I was already lost.