Was called out at 12:30 pm est.
There by 1:25
too LA-timid to get the doorman’s attention.
By 1:45, he was kissing my ass and escorting me in.
2 AM, the showrunner (my client) arrives.
We kiss cheeks and catch up. She pets me.
2:30 I attempt to leave. More bottles are brought. I stay 15 minutes longer just to say goodbye to everyone.
2:35 I hop into a yellow taxi. He’s a dick and yells at me for not knowing where I’m going even though I told him I am not from New York.
2:50 I get out and tip him $40 for a shitty $8 cab ride to the wrong spot. He feels terrible, chases crazy people that started following me away.
2:55 a new crazy that looks harmless attempts to schmooze me.
3:10 a limo driver “saves” me by offering me a ride to get me away from the “dangerous creeper.”
3:20 limo driver drops me home a mile away and says the ride is free. I give him $50. He tells me not to talk to random young hipster New Yorkers because they all think they’re a character in Girls. I agree.
3:35 I write this post.
So grateful for this long weekend. I planned nothing. I hope for yoga, family and dog time, sleep, and shopping. The calm before the storm that is New York Fashion Week.
We somehow end up practicing next to each other. Randomly. Once every two weeks or so, I would end up next to him in a room that can fit 200 yogis.
He is strong and reminds me to slow down. I am flexible and remind him to breathe. For months we continued to practice this way in silence, simply smiling at each other afterwards. I never thought about him outside of practice. Until today.
Today I came back to Larchmont for the first time in over a month. And I had the most blissful, intense, focused practice. And as we walked out, he introduced me to his grandfather, who was patiently waiting for him to drive him around town after practice. And he kissed me on the stairs. In front of everyone and no one. My senior teacher was smiling.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so surprised by a man in my life.
His name is Josh. He lives in Silverlake. He is 30. He is a yogi. He’s kind of stereotypically hipster gorgeous, the exact not-type I never look for. He has a bright spirit. It lights up the room when he smiles. Curly brown hair. Hazel eyes.
He is smart. He has never been creepy. I don’t know his last name and he doesn’t know mine. The kiss was so organic I needed to write about it, because few things in this world come without motive or attachment. And this was beautifully spontaneous, unglamorous, real.
My yoga is a physical, mental and spiritual practice. And it guides me towards the best me I wish to be.
I connect with people who feel the same way about their “practice.”
He told me he loved me and he gave me a choice. He was the alpha male out of all the alpha males I’ve known. Tony Stark in Korean-American-Hollywood form. And I said “no.”