We kissed for a few minutes, his hands in my hair, and then he stopped abruptly. He pulled back and sat looking at me in silence for a moment. I waited, unsure. Then he put his hands on either side of my face, looked me in the eye and said very earnestly, “Just say ‘Strawberry”…
When I walked into the yoga studio and saw him standing there, I almost turned around and walked out. “Of course,” I thought, “Of course, there’s a gorgeous guy here to see me sweat my butt off in my first hot yoga class.”
He was tall, dark and just built enough to be sexy but not enough to seem like a meat head. It was November and he was rocking his Mo-vember stubble. I would have swooned during class while he did his down dogs, but I was too focused on not dying of heat stroke.
Months passed and I got the hang of the hot yoga. I stopped dripping sweat like a leaking faucet and started to glisten like the other girls. And, just like the other girls, I flirted shamelessly with TDH (that was my code name for him… TDH – Tall, Dark and HOT). The best part was that, much to my surprise, TDH seemed to actually be interested in flirting with me.
The 10 minutes before each class became my favorite moments of the week. I never would have worked out so much, if it weren’t for the anticipation of seeing him there. When he asked me out on a date, I was ecstatic.
He picked me up at my door looking more gorgeous than ever in jeans that fit him just right and a button-down collared shirt. I wore a little red dress and he told me I looked beautiful. We went to a Mexican restaurant, ate tacos, drank Michelob Ultra, and talked about his Catholic up-bringing and how yoga helps his balance for boxing. He asked about my family and my favorite color (lavender). He paid for my meal and gave me a chaste peck on the lips when he dropped me off, smiling broadly. As soon as the door was closed, I texted my best friend, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!” (She knows what that means.)
The next morning, I got a text from him that said, “Look on your doorstep.” I ran to my door and found a small basket of lavender bath salts sitting on my doormat. I couldn’t believe my luck. I’d finally found a handsome, thoughtful gentleman. The fact that he could also do a headstand and knock a guy out made him extra dreamy.
On our second date we went to a steakhouse for dinner. After sharing a bottle of wine, we headed back to his place to “look at his boxing trophies.” We started kissing the minute we crossed the threshold. We walked, connected at the lips to his couch. We kissed for a few minutes, his hands in my hair, and then he stopped abruptly. He pulled back and sat looking at me in silence for a moment. I waited, unsure. Then he put his hands on either side of my face, looked me in the eye and said very earnestly, “Just say ‘Strawberry.”
I laughed nervously… “Strawberry,” I said, trying to comply with his request. “No,” he grinned, removing his hands to begin unbuttoning my shirt, “Say ‘Strawberry’ if I do something you’re not comfortable with. It’s the safe word.”
I pulled back. “The safe word? Why do I need a safe word?” He smiled slyly and reached for my shirt again.
I stood up. “What, exactly, did you think we were going to do tonight?” He looked up at me confused. “Have sex,” he replied matter-of-factly. “And you planned to be so deviant that we’d need a safe word?” I asked, incredulous. “Well, I don’t know.” He winked.
I was frozen in place. He stood up perplexed by my dismay and reached for my hands. “I just wanted to make sure you felt safe.” He beamed his gorgeous smile at me but this time instead of shivers of glee, it caused shivers of revulsion. “I think maybe you got the wrong idea,” I said, backing toward the door. “I think I better go.” “Fine,” he stood where he was and watched strangely unconcerned as I let myself out.
I went home heart-broken and second-guessing myself. Maybe he really was trying to be nice. Maybe I messed up the best thing I’d had in a long time. But my gut was screaming that I’d dodged a bullet with a very skeevy guy who was used to getting his way because of his looks and would very likely have been finished with me the moment we’d strawberried.
He never texted or called. Days passed and I avoided yoga. But I’d paid a lot for the membership and I decided that just because ‘Tall, Dark and Hot’ turned out to be ‘Tall, Dark and Jerk,’ I wasn’t going to stop going.
Of course, he was there, but he wouldn’t look at me or speak to me. He acted like I was invisible. I knew it was obvious to everyone and it felt horrible to be shunned like that by someone I had been so excited about. On my third day back, as I watched his down dog from across the room, I decided I ought to just quit the yoga studio to avoid the awkwardness.
In the ladies restroom after class, a girl walked up to me as I was putting on my shoes. “Hey,” she said with an understanding smile, “What was your safe word?”