Yoga is Dead part 3

And I Helped Kill It

I was invited to co-host the very first retreat THE STUDIO decided to organise. My co-teacher wasn’t even a teacher at the time; he was a student whose sweet personality the owner was smitten by, and had decided to offer him the opportunity to facilitate a retreat.

She also invited another guy, whom she was smitten with (albeit in a different way), to come along and help out behind the scenes. This guy was to help the cook, and also, with pick-ups, shopping and other things around the house. This guy, let’s call him Dirk, was a yoga teacher, meaning he had completed a 200 YTT. And was clearly looking for a way into the teaching game. The role of a teacher was perfect for him, because he was full to the brim of himself, and he had leaky sexuality, and flirted with everyone and everything.

I couldn’t stand him, and since I have the world’s worst poker face, he understood that right away. Still, we would have to spend many hours together within the confinement of a car, driving from Berlin to the rented retreat location in Tuscany.

Mostly THE STUDIO owner and Dirk were taking turns driving and riding shotgun, and they would make goo goo eyes at each other, and tease, like teenagers. What the owner probably didn’t realize was that Dirk also made goo goo eyes at the female chef, and the other female helper.

He had big dick energy. But I suspected it might have been a camouflage for a small dick.

Anyway, to me, it was bad vibes all around.

After spending a night in Salzburg, and then being pulled over by the Carabinieri, and finally humped a hole-y dirt road through a patch of Tuscan forest, we arrived at the Hacienda that the owner had rented for the occasion.

It was dirty and messy, and there was no space big enough to host yoga classes really. I was already in a bad mood. And the participants hadn’t even arrived yet. We were scrambling to get everything ready and presentable while Big Dick Dirk was acting like he was the boss.