June 27, 2018
The Life and Crimes
of Billy Butters: Chapter 2
"You're going on a date?" my brother asked me while munching on a spoonful of cornflakes.
"Yeah," I grabbed the loose strands of dangling hair, tucked them tightly into my bun.
"So," as he chewed slowly, "where are you going that you need to look like a speed cyclist?"
"Oh ha ha," my back faced him as I filled my water bottle at the kitchen sink, my anxious eyes stared down at my spandex shorts, "we're going to a hot yoga class."
"You're going to do hot yoga together?" he asked as he choked on his cereal. "You're going to spend your first date inside a hot room doing yoga? Are you fucking kidding me?" as he started to laugh, "why don't you go to the movies or some first date shit like that?"
"Because those date ideas are boring, I wanted to do something...you know, like a little adventurous. And plus, it's our first class so we get it for free, it's usually $20 per class, fucking expensive. So, I get to try it out while going on a date." My fingers tapped the side of my head, "pretty smart, right?"
It was a horrible idea and none of this rationalization could help my desperate soul. But I was so wrapped into it that I didn't see how bad it was. But to be honest, I don't want to give myself too much credit for this idea. I'd like to say that this idea was presented to me, like a shitty Christmas gift. The seed of this master plan was planted earlier in the week during a visit at my local Safeway supermarket. It Cosmopolitan magazine's fucking brilliant idea to try hot yoga on a first date. I was standing in the check-out line when I saw the headline, "26 sexy and steamy first-date ideas that your new man won't resist" shining next to Jessica Alba's face. I thought that 26 is a pretty decent number of first-date ideas, and Jessica Alba probably does yoga, so, I picked up the magazine and flipped to page 37, my eyes landed on the first thing I saw.
#2 Hot yoga
Want to be sexy and sensual on your first date? It read. Yes, I do. Hot yoga is a great way to get a killer workout done all while showing off your best assets to your date. I have assets that must be shown. Make sure you place your mat in front of him so he can see what he's missing out on. He will not miss a thing, I swear to god.
I'll be all sweaty and limber, guys are into flexible girls...how did I miss this?! I should have gone with my plan B picnic idea instead.
"Did you tell him to drink lots of water?" he asked concerningly, "cause that guy's gonna sweat his balls off."
"Yeah, I did," Butters responded by telling me he knew what to do. For some reason, I didn't believe him.
My brother released a slow and mildly depressing sigh, "what a hopeless fuck," as he fished around in his cereal bowl, "what we do for pussy, I tell ya."
I tightened the lid to my water bottle, grabbed my car keys and headed out the door, "bye Alex!"
"Don't do it," he yelled back, "It's a horrible idea." I slammed the door shut, with his prepubescent screams fading into the background with each step.
"Hey," I said enthusiastically. There was too much excitement in my voice, I sounded desperate. And I was. I was desperate to relive the life of Marissa from the O.C. Minus the fact that I lived in a middle-class neighborhood that predominately smelt like curry and drove a caravan, I felt that we were much, in fact, the same person.
"Hey," he said as he walked up to me with a white wife-beater on and a loose pair of basketball shorts. Oh my god, maybe he'll take off his shirt.
"You ready?" I released a giant smile.
He laughed, "let's do it."
We walked into the yoga studio, the place was filled with half-naked chicks. As I said, I didn't plan this through.
"I'm just going to the change room, I'll meet you in the yoga room."
I confidently smiled as I turned around and refocused my attention on that competition. I looked like a nun. A layer of shamed blanketed my body and I quickly walked to the yoga room, dodging the bodies of these namaste bitches. I pushed the heavy door open and a gust of hot wind slapped me across the face, I started sweating. The door closed behind me, my eyes examining the yoga mats placed around the room. This is all about strategy. If I pick this mat and he gets that one then he'll be in direct line with that bitch in the yellow bra. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Just pick one before he comes. I casually walked up to one mat that had, what I would like to say, positive vibes. Plus, it was situated in the perfect spot for him to potentially stare at me throughout the entire class.
More people came into the room, including Butters and I judged them all. It was the only way to make me feel better as after seeing my reflection in the wall-to-wall mirror, I realized my shorts gave me a massive camel toe and my baggy t-shirt, rather than hiding the fat, clung onto my love handles with pride. I was helpless, laying in a room of highly-fertile females with beach bods and my bad boy while looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy. Fuck it, you have 90 minutes of this fucking bullshit. Oh, great idea Natasha, fucking yoga. You couldn't have just listened to your brother. Just do the class and go home. You tried.
The teacher walked into the boiling hot room wearing a pair of purple and a matching bra. What a fucking cow. She was too happy, one of those preppy types. I can't stand those types of people. She started off the class by talking about how we had to breathe like a flower petal blooming and that's when I knew that this wasn't for me.
I was sweating like a god damn wilder beast, there was no blooming other than my sweat glands. With each breath, my cotton t-shirt became heavier and heavier with sweat, stretching itself down to my knees. We were now in dancer pose which made me flinch thinking about those ballerina cunts from high school.
"Why don't you take off your t-shirt?" he whispered to me, "it looks like it's weighing you down."
I stared at him, breathing heavily, "no, it's fine...it's not that bad, it's like extra weight, you know...burn more calories."
The teacher suddenly shushed me and announced to the class while going into the mountain pose, "if you're unable to uncomplete a pose, you can lay down on your mat or leave the classroom." That yoga bitch - that was a direct attack. She wanted me to walk out, she wanted me to leave my man in a room full of naked women. Well, not today bitch. I'm going to finish this entire class. Maybe even do a second one, try me, fucking try me.
Since the room had no clock, I looked over to my date, hoping that he would be able to sense how much longer we had of this bullshit. He was drowned in sweat, barely able to stand on two feet, let alone hold himself up with his arms. For a moment, I thought he was a pussy. I mean, I was wearing a god damn cotton t-shirt that weighed twenty pounds while you're in a wifebeater. Though, I pushed my judgment aside because well, I wanted a boyfriend.
Abandoning my tree standing position, I squirmed over to him, poking him with my finger, he turned to me, giving me a wink. Oh my god, he wants me. While trying to get back to standing like be a tree, Butters got up and left the room. Fuck! We're just about to go into Doggy. He's missing my most flattering position. Where is he going? Probably to pee, he'll be back soon.
It felt like a long time had passed since he left the room. And that's because a long time had passed - an hour and fifteen minutes to be exact. While I laid on my mat as the class ended, the teacher said namaste and left the class. As the door opened, I witnessed red and blue lights flashing outside. Butters.
I got up quickly, rolling my mat up with anxiety and quickly trotting out of the hot yoga room. Butters laid on a stretcher outside of the yoga studio with an oxygen mask on his face.
"Oh my god, what happened?" I asked concerningly to the ambulance attendant.
"He was severely dehydrated which resulted in him having a seizure outside of the studio. Who are you in relation to him?"
"I'm his first date," as I smiled excitedly, forgetting about the medical status of Butters, "I mean like we're on our first date, I'm sure he's dated before cause he's a man, but this is our first date," as I fumbled for words, "uh, is he going to be okay?"
"Yes, he just needs some electrolytes and he'll be fine," the ambulance attendant scribbled on his pad of paper. "Hot yoga on a first date? Really? Hey, Mark!"
"Yeah?" the other ambulance attendant replied from inside the ambulance.
"This is their first date!" he laughed.
"Hot yoga as a first date?"
"Okay, well," as I patted Butters shoulder, "thank you, sir, for your help and it was a good first date idea, okay?" I cleared my throat, "he's okay to leave?... Butters are you okay?"
He took the oxygen mask off his mouth, "yeah, yeah, it's nothing, I feel great. Maybe we can do something more chill on our next date."
Oh my god, he wants to go on another date.