I Did Hot Yoga With David Duchovny and Now I Understand Life
It started out as your standard Wednesday, complete with homemade cold brew and the two pieces of raisin toast the health police think I shouldn’t eat. I was wearing my favorite pants, the ones with the hole in the thigh, and the frazzled sports bra I should have retired a year ago. It had been four days since I washed my hair, and even longer since I’d shaved my legs. Needless to say, I was looking pretty sweet standing next to the fancy pants Santa Monica YogaWorks ladies in their designer duds.
I sat on a bench, removing my $5 Target flip flops and yawning while placing them in the cubby, when a man sat next to me and said, “I feel the same way.”
I turned, expecting to frighten this person when they realized I was not a twenty-one year old actress/supermodel in a full palette of contour, to find the face of Fox Mulder (aptly named, I might add) smiling back at me.
I may have clenched to keep from peeing a little in my pants.
“It’s just a little early, you know?” I said, immediately regretting this stupid reply then adding a weird giggle shrug to punctuate like a total dork.
“I do,” he quipped, tossing his shoes into the little box, “but you’ll never regret coming when it’s over.”
He winked, yes actually winked, and placed his hand on my shoulder before floating off into the class. I beamed, I may never wash this shoulder again.
As the class progressed, I became less and less aware of Duchovny’s hot ass flexing three mats over and focused on my new mantra…admittedly making it a little filthier than intended. I smiled to myself, floating in and out of yoga bliss and fantasy land visions.
“You’ll never regret coming when it’s over.”
After class he waved to me, actually it was more of a sexy salute, and as I poured sweat like a drowned rat, I smiled and waved back. I considered chasing him down, coming up with some lame reason to talk to him a little more, but nothing came to me. I briefly panicked, this is my chance, this may be the only opportunity I ever get to be in his presence. I’m blowing it!
Then I paused, took a deep breath, and let it go. It was over, and although I desperately wanted there to be more, I didn’t regret the decision to let it be what it was. He was right, I didn’t want to come to class, and I was better because I did. It was over, and it was ok.
As I walked to my car I had a realization : I think David Duchovny may actually be the Buddha, and I need a tiny gold statue of him immediately.