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Why I Hate Partner Yoga

My dislike of partner yoga started with a stranger’s sweaty thighs. I had just moved from Brooklyn, N.Y., to the San Francisco Bay Area, and I was working my way through a Sunday morning Vinyasa class with the same discipline, determination and Type A drive I bring to most attempts at relaxation. But I kept getting distracted by the young man next to me.

To be specific, I was distracted by the moisture he was producing. No sooner had we started sun salutations than the man began to sweat, energetically and abundantly. By the time the class was halfway through, drops of perspiration rolled off his nose with the regularity of a leaking faucet, and a puddle had formed on the floor in front of his mat. Instead of wiping off his face with a towel, he removed his shirt. Now sweat began to drip from a new spot: his nipples.

When I go to yoga, I want to be alone. Apparently I’m not the only one, as I discovered after I wrote this article for Salon.

1 Comment

  1. Leslie Says:

    I couldn’t agree with you more and I could not have expressed my distaste for partner yoga any better.

    In fact, I just googled dislkie partner yoga and your piece came up first.

    I actually take your thoughts one step further. I HATE it! I wish teachers would post in their class descriptions that they do partner yoga so I could avoid the hell of it altogether.

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