I arrived early at the quiet studio on the west side of Cleveland, the first one there. Feeling confident—and maybe a little too eager—I stripped off my clothes right away, ready to dive into the nude yoga experience 😏. The instructor, a muscular bear with a calm and grounded presence 🐻, introduced himself. As we exchanged a few words, I couldn’t help but feel at ease, even though I was standing completely nude in front of a stranger. No big deal, right? Just another Thursday at a men’s yoga class.
James and I had driven to the class together, both nervous for our own reasons 😬. I knew James from the LGBTQ+ recovery program, and it was only his second nude event, so there was a certain safety in numbers. Plus, he’s been with his partner for 25 years, so he’s not exactly checking out the competition 👀. James had this calm, infectious energy, and a face that could launch a thousand Grindr taps—something I might’ve been a bit envious of. But knowing I had my LGBTQ+ community backing me made the experience feel more manageable.
Soon, the room began to fill with about thirteen men. One by one, they stripped down too. All of us bare and exposed, but instead of awkwardness, there was this liberating vibe. Like, “Hey, we're all in this together. Let’s see who survives this gay fitness community event.” 💪
I expected a nice, relaxing yoga session after work—maybe a bit of deep breathing and a stretch or two—but nope. Turns out I signed up for the yoga boot camp version 😅. The instructor led us through poses like Tree Pose and Scorpion 🧘, and I could practically feel muscles I forgot I had. The room got hotter, and sweat started pouring down my abs like I was auditioning for the cover of a men’s health mag 💦. I wasn’t alone, though. As I glanced around, everyone was equally drenched. At one point, we did something called “wave breath,” and while everyone else nailed it, I sounded like a zombie on his morning coffee run ☕. A little comic relief never hurt.
The instructor was very hands-on 😏. He came by and pushed me deeper into stretches—nothing like a strong bear pushing your boundaries, right? It helped me feel more connected to the practice, and, let’s be honest, getting a little attention didn’t hurt the motivation. Mindfulness in the gay community was clearly part of this.
Then, right on cue, *Hot to Go* came on the playlist 🎶. I couldn’t help but smirk. Here we were, a group of sweaty men, flexing and grunting in unison. If someone had walked in, they might’ve thought they’d stumbled onto a calendar shoot for *Men of Yoga* 🏋️♂️. Testosterone was definitely in the air, with palpable masculine energy 😏.
Though I hadn’t done yoga in years and my flexibility wasn’t exactly winning awards, I noticed I wasn’t alone in the struggle. Lucky, an older gentleman, sat quietly through the tougher parts, and that made me feel a bit better about my own performance. The naked part surprisingly helped. No one was judging, and we were all just there, connected in a weird, sweaty, wonderful way 🌈.
As the class wrapped up, we got to the cool-down, and the instructor came around with lavender lotion—scalp massages for everyone 👀. I mean, you could’ve charged extra for that. The scent, the soothing touch, it was a perfect way to end the hour.
Afterward, I chatted with a few of the guys. One of them, a young guy from Bay Village training for a marathon, was definitely vibing with me. Let’s just say he had a *reaction* you don’t typically see in gay men's wellness classes 😏💦, and when I hugged him goodbye, there was some extra electricity ⚡. We exchanged numbers—because, you know, “namaste” and all that.
Then I walked over to Mike, who’d seemed oddly familiar during class. Turns out, he was my neighbor from 12 years ago. He knew me back when I was in active addiction, and he joked to the instructor about how I’d disappeared. I’m all about making amends, so I immediately apologized, explained I’d been sober for nine years, and said I’d love to get to know him again. To my surprise, he forgave me right away. That’s the thing about honesty—it’s so rare that when you give it, people respect you for it. We swapped numbers and made plans for coffee ☕. Funny enough, this wasn’t the first time I’d run into an old neighbor in a completely random setting. It happened when I was writing *Urban Adventures*, available on the Amazon bookstore. The odds of it happening twice were almost cosmic. The universe was definitely pointing at something 🌌
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Before leaving, the instructor mentioned he was heading to Freedom Valley, the gay campground closest to Cleveland, this weekend for Leather Weekend 🏕️. I couldn’t help but smile. Freedom Valley is where I did extensive research for my upcoming book, *Gay Men’s Field Guide: Gay Campground Adventures*, and something tells me the instructor might have more than one outfit for that occasion 😉. He’s got a partner, but hey, it’s Freedom Valley. You never know what might happen during one of those LGBTQ+ campground events 😈.
As James and I walked out together, I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about all the friends I’d made in that sweaty studio. Some of the connections were made that night, and some were 12 years in the making. I went there to connect with other gay men, and that’s exactly what happened 🌈👬.
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