I think I may have a problem…

On Monday night, after many months of avoiding, delaying, and finding excuses not to, I went to my first ever yoga class. It was introduction to Yoga and it was taught by a nice limber little girl with a ponytail.

True to form, I arrived 5 minutes after the class had begun and slid in between two participants (one of which was kind enough to stop, and slide his mat over to give me room) and jump into the routine already in progress. I’ve never done anything like this in my life. Stretching? What is that?

I had no idea what I was getting into, but thruout the class, I kept hearing my massage therapist’s words saying “don’t push too hard, don’t follow gym mentality with yoga”, so I found myself restrained (not the good way, that’s part two). I was pacing myself. Pushing when it felt right, and holding back when it was too much.

I’ve never worked out that hard in all my years, and I’ve ridden the California Coast from SF to LA twice (CAR 5 & 6). But, I was also very much out of my element. I’m the proverbial bull in the china shop. I bump into things, often breaking or knocking them over.

I have no balance and was shocked when she was asking me to stand on one foot and keep that pose for an extended amount of time. I believe the pose was called “the tree”. As I glanced at the other participants via the full wall of mirrors (damn evil gym owner) I was rewarded with silent, graceful strength. Nearly all of them were still, balanced on one foot, arms reaching to heaven. This awe inspiring visual was shattered when my balance gave out and I stumbled out of my pose. It was as if there was a tornado that touched down in my little section of the forest, but it affected nobody but myself. As I rocked franticly on one foot trying to regain the pose, the instructor (with a slight knowing smirk) instructed me the class to hold our gaze at specific spot on the wall and it would help. DAMN…who knew.

By the end of the class, I was winded and covered in sweat vowing to return until I could handle it and move to the intermediate classes. After Yoga class, I went for a great hamburger and fries and slowly slid back into my previous lifestyle of bad food and worse urges…

Tuesday night however, could be the paradox of Monday.

I was horny. I mean, climbing the wall horny. No good looking man was safe from me, and aAfter trying to get the sexual thoughts out of my head unsuccessfully, I finally gave in and decided to “take a soak” at to the local bathhouse. Now, since I’ve been in Chicago these past years I’ve only been to this place 3 times (including Tuesday). I’m not against bathhouses, but I’m not necessarily for them either. The serve a purpose, unfortunately, on Tuesday night they fell through on their service purposes. It was woefully quiet.

After arriving and paying for my locker, I quickly donned my towel (big-girl sized please? Thank you!) and started my tour of the facility. The location is remarkably spotless considering its main purpose. I stopped in the hot tub and soaked for a short bit before starting my laps. There were maybe three people there I would even consider having “relations” with and sadly, I wasn’t someone they would consider in kind.

After my laps, I decided to give up and focus on the “spa” features of the establishment, retiring to the hot tub and steamroom for the duration of my stay.

My intention were to have freaky monkey sex with a stranger to satisfy the burning need I had, but I ended up having a relaxing evening in a hot tub and an approximately 2.5 mile walk through the hallways of the club.

So am I reaching for enlightenment with Yoga or searching the depths of the gutter for validation and affection?

See ya at Yoga on Monday after my weekend of debauchery in St Louis.