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Date To Marry Part 4: Hot Yoga

Please read prequel blogs here, because the details are Important. At the very least read Part 2

Date to Marry:

And maybe also

Or you can read none of those and just read this one because it's my fault for taking so long to right the follow up to these stories. But I’ve been writing a book OKAY????? Which comes out Sept. 10th. MARK YOUR CALENDARS! Carrying on.

I'd just broken up with a perfectly fine adorable dude I'm calling Brooklyn Boy.

The truth is, even though I was very proud of myself for all the things I learned and allowed with Brooklyn Boy, I was also very bummed and very scared. 

Did I make a huge mistake??? Why can’t you just be happy and content with a decent man, MJ? 

You know, the messages in your woman brain that convince you repeatedly you should just be happy with the “ok” version of everything in your life? Like you know incredible slices of prosciutto exist if you’d just walk your happy butt over to the local butcher but instead you buy Aldi sliced turkey because you should really be saving money because even though you’re an invaluable asset at your job you shan’t dare ask for a raise because the money is okay, I don’t need more and besides I should eat turkey, not prosciutto because it’s healthier and instead of enjoying a really yummy charcuterie for pleasure I will watch my caloric and fat intake in order to stay small because staying small is more important than my pleasure and anyway the point is just settle, lady!

This is the self-judgment spiral I was refereeing while watching Blippi with a two year old when I got THE TEXT (It was actually an Instagram DM but just go with it). 


The message was from a man  – Hot Yoga Teacher – with whom I was involved a couple years prior. A man who, while we were never sexually involved and hadn’t really “dated,” we did have a few steamy hangouts. In our short rendezvous, he made quite the impact on me. Though I had released him due to learning the importance of not torturing myself over the unavailable man allure, I did hope to get my “real chance” with him one day. 

Conveniently, Hot Yoga Teacher reached out the same day I released a blog post about our encounter. 

Oh fuck. I thought. Did he read my blog post?? Is this why he is reaching out to me? Does he think I’m a total weirdo for writing about his abs on the internet (clearly this fear is not going to stop me from doing it again, five years later)?! 

I didn’t even know he followed me on Instagram?

I thought he was like, married or something!!!


HYT was in fact, not married. He had recently parted from the girl who made him “the one that got away” from me two years prior. He was single and ready to Mattie Jo mingle. 

Much like my last encounter with HYT, I was convinced the Universe was giving me a massive gift for doing something as scary as I’d just done in breaking things off with Brooklyn Boy. I’d given up something good in the hopes of something great. And here I was getting it – my something great! 

This man had all the on-paper qualities I wanted in a partner. First of all, because I’m only human, let’s name the obvious – he was insanely hot. Within that visible ab-having, peppered silver gray beard, 6’1 shell was an emotionally intelligent, funny, creative-but-with-a practical- job, New-York-loving, yoga-doing, loves-his-dad-and-has -close-guy-friendships person. 

He asked if I was around that weekend to do some yoga, and I was definitely very much down (ward dog). I honestly could not believe this was happening to me. I found it all way too good to be true. Was I really coming out of a subpar relationship, only to promptly be launched into my dream relationship? 

He got us reservations at Y7 yoga, arguably the most appropriated of the appropriated yogic practices. It’s completely dark, except for some candles, very hot, and they play Beyonce. BEYONCE. I know it’s disrespectful and Western but it’s also fun, relaxing, sexy, and def opened up my sacral chakra for some (potential) sacral boning. 

I was sitting on my mat, no HYT to be seen, experiencing my own grown up version of Inside Out 

Where is he?

OMG is he standing me up?!?!

I knew this was too good to be true. 

It doesn’t matter how into you he seemed two years ago, Mattie Jo. Dudes this hot and evolved are never really availa–

“We are closing the doors and no one else is permitted in. It will be completely dark in 5…4…3…2…” 

He didn’t show.

I was crushed. I felt like I’d done all emotional and internal work the past couple of weeks to let go of “something good” in hopes of “something great” and that is actually quite hard to do because when you’ve spent most of your adult life single you kind of LOVE the cuddling, regular sex, general companionship of a person even if they aren’t your forever person and UGH I SHOULD HAVE JUST STAYED WITH BROOKLYN BOY!!!

I flowed through feeling like a total idiot with each vinyasa. I was very grateful the lights were off and it was a hot yoga practice, so even if people could see me, they’d think I was just sweating from my eyelashes. Not like, crying over my dream guy standing me up(ward dog. I’LL STOP!) Yes, for the entire hour, I cried like a baby. What was it with me, this guy, and crying during yoga? 

After the longest hour of my yoga-practicing life, I prepared myself to exit and saunter home. Now only feeling a little stupid that I’d let my hopes get up for my reunion with Hot Yoga, because I’d poured a lot of the embarrassment out via body fluid – sweat and tears – during that yoga class. What they say is true. Yoga is great for feeling and releasing blah blah.

I was almost to the locker room, red faced and looking like I’d just ran a high school track meet when I heard my name. “Mattie!”  I turned around. It was him.

“I am so so so sorry! Weekend trains from Queens totally fucked me.” He apologized profusely. I think I wanted to crack a joke about Queens and getting fucked, but I didn’t know him that well yet so I just said. “It’s okay! I’m just…glad you didn’t stand me up haha.” Yeah super funny you just exposed yourself like the uncool, scared this isn’t a real thing, weeny woman you are! 

“Oh my gosh, I would never.” He replied, “I have really been looking forward to this. “ 



He carried on. “You wanna change and then grab some tea? Or a smoothie?” 

“Oh, you want me to change?”

“You don’t want to?”

“I dunno. Based on where we left off last time, I’d say you actually have a thing for me dripping (don’t say wet, you pervert) … sweat.” 

The last date Hot Yoga and I had was at a bath house. Yes. When I said our previous goings on were steamy, I meant it in the literal sense. But yes, also in the girl boner sense fer sure. 

He chuckled, remembering our steam room chat circa 2017. I changed out of my sopping wet clothes and we headed to Teavana. We caught up on all our goings on since our last quasi-date. Our relationships and job things. At some point he put his hand on my leg, and I swear to God I became a puddle of honeysuckle ginger chai right there on the floor. 

Only I didn’t literally. I stayed human, trying not to giddy girl giggle all the way through our chat long enough to get to the part where we’d finally – after TWO LONG YEARS OF WAITING – get to bone. I mean. Kiss.

I must have succeeded in my concealment, because the leg touch progressed to a lip touch. He caressed my cheek, like they do in Ryan Gosling movies, leaned in, and we made out way too passionately for a couple on a Saturday not brunch drunk. In a Teavana. 

I think of that steamy, shameless public makeout with my dream man everytime I pass what is now an “Srina” Tea because Teavana got bought out by Starbucks.

“When can I see you again?” He asked. 

I was getting my something great. 




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Wait - that’s it?! Ahhh always want to read more. I’m sure I’ll feel The same way about your book!


"You know, the messages in your woman brain" paragraph is flawless. Nailed it. Sending on to friends!

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