Yoga Boy

Even when I'm tired and feeling lazy I try to drag my lard ass to yoga. Two weeks ago, I went to my regular Thursday night class. The night before, I went to a poetry performance with my boss and a member of my department. The poetry troupe we saw is coming to school next week to do a day long workshop for our students, so we wanted to preview their talents. They were fun, energetic, and hip. I think the kids will love them. We saw this chick named MC Angel perform. She was funny. It was a great way to spend a Wednesday night! Check out this site for a giggle:
After working hard and sweating it up in yoga class Thursday night, I changed and went downstairs to get my shoes. Down there I met a lovely South African man who said, "Did you go to Apples and Snakes (the poetry troupe) last night?" With furrowed brow and scrunched nose I said, "Yes." All the while I'm thinking how the hell does he know where I was last night if I've never ever seen him before in my life? I don't really have a lot of yoga friends. It's kind of a solitary activity and class is silent- only the teacher talks. I talk to my regular teacher because she's American and her husband because he's her husband, but that's about it. Beyond half smiles and hello grunts, I tend not to say much.
A couple of months ago, some British guy started chatting to me about how the room was hot, but being by the window made it nicer. I grunted yeah and left. Undeterred, he tried again, telling me how he rode his bike through Maryland, Delaware and either Virginia or Pennsylvania (see how well I listen) because I was American. That did loosen me up a bit and I told him what a small world it was because I was from Maryland. Further conversation revealed that he lives in my neighborhood and regularly bikes to class. End communication.
Given the narrow scope of my yoga communication up until that point, you can see how the South African's question boggled my mind. As it turns out, he too had been at the poetry performance on Wednesday night. He remembered seeing me there and wanted to confirm my identity as one in the same in this city of 8 million. We both put on our shoes and walked out of the yoga studio together. We walked to the bus stop together. We rode the bus together. We conversed... until he remembered his need to buy groceries and abruptly hopped off the bus with a, "See you later!" I was like what just happened?
I hadn't seen the South African since, but tonight he was there. As was British bike dude oddly enough. I was so ashamed that he saw me tonight because we actually met on the bus while I was napping. He remembered my name. He asked if the poetry troupe had come to work yet. He asked about my day. If I didn't know better, I'd think he liked me. He stood one person away from me in class today. He rode the bus home with me after class. He's sweet...and cute- red hair (I have a secret fetish for gingers) and blue eyes. His South African accent also helps! Not much there yet, but we'll see where it goes.
Hooray for my new crush on cute, Soth African yoga boy!