I’ve been seeing Thomas and Marilyn ever since I started going to the yoga studio in my neighborhood. She is tiny and fit and beautiful, and he looks like what you’d imagine your dad looks like doing yoga. Let’s just say that he uses the strap anytime we’re holding our feet and extending our legs. He also gets more “Good, Thomas” comments by the instructor than anyone else (both encouraging and completely condescending, you know?).
I haven’t asked Thomas how long he’s has been going to the studio, but I know that Marilyn has been going much longer than he has. I first struck up a conversation with Marilyn in the ladies room while we were both heading into class.
“I think it’s great that you and your husband come to yoga together,” I told her while pulling up hair up into a bun.
She said that she asked him on a whim one day if he wanted to join her, and to her surprise, he said yes. He’s been coming ever since. I asked if she minded him taking over her hobby, and she said that at first she had her moments but now she really enjoys being able to share it with him. Naturally, I thought it was adorable.
Last night, Thomas showed up to our 5:45 yoga class alone. I commented on his solo practice, and he said that Marilyn was out of town for work this week. He thought about not coming but didn’t really know what to do with himself at home and had gotten used to the routine. I smiled to myself all class as I watched Thomas and his dad bod go through the motions even without the solidarity of his wife. After class, he came up to me.
“Is it weird if I ask you to have dinner with me?” is really not a question easily answered. Before I could respond, he continued, “I’d like to get sushi at *sushi place within walking distance* but I hate dining out alone.”
I should point out that I love sushi, especially the sushi place next to the yoga studio. It had also been a hell of a Monday, I had post-yoga warm fuzzies, and my other option was back to my apartment solo. I agreed.
We had a great dinner, and the conversation never lulled. I learned that Thomas was from Michigan, and Marilyn from Florida. They met in college and a job in finance brought them to Charlotte. They have one kid, a son, who just started school at Clemson. I was fully committed to paying for my half of the meal. Anything other than that would be awkward. Still, when the check came, Thomas wouldn’t hear of it, and I relented. He told me that my company was well worth the price of the meal. He was genuine, and it felt innocent enough.
As I got in my car to drive home, it dawned on me that maybe going to dinner with a married man whose wife was out of town and who probably checks out my ass regularly wasn’t a good idea. But my dinner date with Thomas was one of the more enjoyable dining experiences I’ve had in quite some time. It was refreshing to spend time with a man who wasn’t being an incredible douchebag to try and impress me (hello, banking professionals). Don’t get me wrong – I’m not going to start hunting for a “daddy” to date. It was just a nice dinner out and maybe restored my faith in humanity just a little. Even if it was kind of a date with a 47-year-old married man from my yoga class..
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