Page 28 of The Backup Groom
Stella had been with me that day and turned the embarrassing moment into an opportunity to call me One-Eyed Amber for an entire week, inspired by the patch I had to wear over my scratched cornea. She had also tried to convince me to go to Disneyland and yell “Ahoy!” as we rode Pirates of the Caribbean repeatedly. I declined, for obvious reasons.
Since that yoga debacle, I preferred to get my exercise from early morning walks on the beach, riding my bike, and the occasional game of tennis. Little did I know I would return to yoga exactly three years later to the day, with Stella once again right by my side.
Fortunately, I made it through the entire yoga class unscathed, and with both eyes still intact. Although the class was better than expected, I would not be returning soon since we were there for ulterior motives.
“Namaste,” said the instructor, his palms together in front of his chest. He bowed, then made eye contact with everyone in the class.
“Namaste,” the entire class repeated back to him.
The instructor was Rhubarb Ryan, obviously not his real name, but a nickname provided from the queen of nicknames, Stella.
According to the bio on his yoga website, Rhubarb Ryan was a free spirit and sort of nomad, having lived in ten different countries around the world over the last fifteen years. He also mentioned that he loved nature, juicing, minimalism, and dogs, as well as unconventional eating and living habits, whatever that meant. He was also obsessed with rhubarb, hence the nickname.
Stella was quick to point out that it was another ideal roommate/husband situation since he could suddenly uproot and go find himself for the eleventh time in another part of the world, leaving the house all to me.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Stella whispered after rolling up her yoga mat. “Follow my lead.”
We walked to the front of the class and waited while two other women said goodbye to him, each of them taking turns to gawk at his lean torso. He led the entire class shirtless, and he didn’t look like he was in a hurry to put his shirt back on.
Rhubarb Ryan gave off a bohemian vibe, carefree, laid-back, and sporting long wavy shoulder-length hair with ombre highlights that reminded me a lot of Jason Momoa.
Finally, it was our turn and we stepped closer.
“That was an amazing class,” Stella said, tucking her yoga mat under her arm. “Thank you so much.”
Rhubarb Ryan placed both palms together in front of his chest again and did a slight bow of the head. “You’re welcome. The mind-body connection is a wonderful thing to explore, allowing us to live fully in the present. It’s always better to be where you are than where you think you should be.”
“Unless you’re at the dentist with a drill in your mouth when you’d rather be in Hawaii,” Stella quipped.
Rhubarb Ryan grinned and bowed his head sagely. “Excellent point.”
“I’m Amber,” I said. “And this is my good friend, Stella.”
“A pleasure to meet you both.”
“Are most of your classes the same style?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes, although I teach a naked yoga class at Black’s Beach on Saturday mornings, if you’re interested.”
I was about to make a joke about it, but stopped when I realized he was serious.
“That’s really a thing, huh?” I couldn’t help asking.
Rhubarb Ryan affirmed. “Totally. There’s nothing like letting it all hang out, to commune with nature without the constrictions.”
I tried to appear nonchalant, but admit to being a little fascinated, but horrified more than anything as I imagined a man directly behind me during the class as I touched my toes, or worse, a man in front of me while he tried to touch his.
“What got you into that?” I asked, trying to get that vision out of my head.
“I’m not a fan of clothes,” he said.
“Oh . . . okay,” I said. “Any type of clothes in particular?”
“All of them,” said Rhubarb Ryan. “Nudity is our purest form of being ourselves. And naked yoga is an opportunity to connect with Mother Earth at a spiritual level and discover an untarnished utopia that’s not sullied by cotton, polyester, and spandex. It’s your chance to flee from the tyranny of fabric and embrace your heavenly body. It’s the most grounding, liberating experience in the world, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.”
I bet there were plenty of butts.
“You should join me,” he added.
