When I came back to yoga after a several month absence, due to hectic work schedule, some family stuff and general sloth, there was a new person behind the desk checking people in. Almost too good-looking, very well-spoken and killer body. Works at yoga studio. Gay. Has to be, right? Always smiling, rarely actually staying to take class, but a nice face to see when coming in for a little self torture several days a week.
When I worked out the deal to help out at the studio with the owner, it was the cute gay boy who would be training me. He did last week, and though I meant to get back in at some point this week, I haven't. So, he called yesterday to ask if I might come train a bit before the evening class. I told him it wasn't a great day for me, because I was still working (this was around 6pm). He suggested that, being St. Patrick's day, I should give myself a bit of a break and go have a drink. He also volunteered to accompany me for said drink. Hmmm...ok. So we met at a local Mexican place (his brilliant idea, as all the other pub-type places were sure to be overflowing with drunken, loud types). Suffice it to say that 3 margaritas later, we were giggling about the fact that I was positive he was gay. He's so NOT. GAY.
I guess that counts as first post break-up date. Weird.
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2 comments:
Well, I've got to say that your St. Patrick's Day was a good sight better than mine.
All I did was listen to podcasts, watch tv, drink a few beers and start to do some taxes.
I almost worked out, but I didn't have a date with a hot guy - good work.
Apparently, my life sucks even worse than Jeff's.
Hooray for broken gaydar!
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