Once in class, Nemeth orders everyone into a large rectangle, arranged boy-girl.
I drop my mat and run to the bathroom, returning to find myself situated between two rather short men.
I am airborne, held aloft about 4 feet from the ground by a very strong and handsome man whose hands are in mine and whose feet are pressed against my pelvis. This is singles yoga, where about 40 men and women get really sweaty and intimate on a Friday night at the Jonny Kest Center for Yoga, a popular studio in Birmingham, MI.
The class is the brainchild of Raina Nemeth, a teacher who wanted to give her love-seeking yogi pals a space to flirt.
Then there's the vanity factor: I prefer to look my best (or, at the very least, not gross) when meeting eligible men.
But when I practice yoga, I'm usually drenched with sweat—and not the sexy, dewy variety.
The men range from mid-20s to late 40s, and nearly all upend my stereotypes about yoga guys: that they're either 50ish professionals whose doctors told them yoga would alleviate their back pain, or New Age-y types with questionable hygiene.
At 5'10", I just can't get past my junior-high memories of being a gangly beanpole.
"All my single friends were speed dating or on Match.com," says Nemeth."So I thought, Well, five minutes on your mat with someone will tell you if there's a connection."Having recently ended a serious relationship, I'm not ready to start dating again, but I want to test the waters and see who else is paddling around.I'm talking about perspiration that soaks through my clothes in unfortunate places and takes my makeup with it in streaks.I decide to keep the makeup light and don my favorite cotton leggings and a flattering tank, ignoring the parade of cleavage and butt-hugging pants that walks through the door.
Still, I approach this class with some trepidation.For one thing, I've never participated in a singles event, and doing so makes me feel like I've got "Lookin' for Love" emblazoned on my chest.