A Yoga Invitation

Only in so many lifetimes can Facebook make this happen.

I’m closing my phone down for the night. (It has been busy.) I’m on Facebook, because why not? I have time.

The friend suggest feature has that window of souls passing by. The first one stumps me. I can’t quite place it.

“I dunno. That’s a dude.”

But I am troubled. I create Botox lines and frown. WHERE do I know this guy from? Flipping though this guy’s photos reveals he likes kittens. Lives in Arizona. And wears <gasp> sunglasses on top of his baseball hat.

Still, nothing.

But blessed Jesus, thank you. I know I have sinned. But I do so appreciate the late night humor.

This, this was the homeless guy.

I went on a date with a homeless guy.

(Right? You’re curious now, no?)

Once there was a guy who suggested a picnic date. One where I would not be murdered and a walk around a small lake was involved. After I satellite Google’d Earth, I agreed. This was a man made lake. Tucked behind a McDonalds.

That should have been a sign.

The long short story would tell you the quirks of his walk. The weird things I did to draw out his responses. But here’s what you need to know:

Internet dating has interesting folks. This guy was a convicted felon, still married, on parole and living between his Mom’s couch and his wife’s living room futon.

(His wife felt bad for him and they remained married while he was in jail the second time. Apparently parole is easier if you’ve got a stable base at home.)

Him: “I’ve never had a woman *understand* me so well before!”
Me: Thinking “KEEP IT COMING. I JUST NEED TO KNOW.”

So back in the day, Arizona wasn’t so tech smart. And if you collected multiple DUIs it took a while to catch up with you. But when you had two felonies you would go to jail. Or something like that.

He had gone to jail twice.

The last time for 24 or 28 months. I can’t remember right now. I’d have to find my journal. But Jail. His understanding of current events was so thin i had to question him. And so I dug in. But he took it be of a personal interest.

As he walked me back to my car – because he was not allowed to drive – and (!) relied on his bike for transportation – I was invited along to an adventure.

Yoga.

Intrigued I asked where. Where did the convicted felon want me to join him on a Tuesday?

At the homeless shelter. The place where he received his free medical care, his free chiro care, his free therapy, his free…and so it went. The list of free services.

I said I would think about it.

I did.
But what I thought about was the six or seven cars he refused to sell. The luxury cars he could not drive. And how full his mother’s home must be. Topped with possessions, earned from his years of restaurant management. But yet. Yet, this man was refusing to take an entry level dishwashing job as it was beneath him.

So I was curious as I looked at him, exactly who, which tax payer budget, paid for the homeless shelters in Arizona.

And kittens.

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