I no longer had a sense of home living in New York City after September 11, 2001. A friend in Long Beach convinced me to grab my dog and move to California to become a yoga teacher. Who wouldn’t see the choice as anything but obvious? It wasn’t until I gave away everything I owned (except my dog) (obvi), moved to Long Beach, and shared a house with eleven other yogis as my bank account drained itself of funds that I realized this may not have been the best choice.
Lucky for me, I thought I joined a yoga school but it was actually a sex cult. If I’m being precise here, an escort agency purchased the yoga school and used it as a vehicle for indoctrinating young people into the fold to become “Tantric healers.” Highlights include one of the “school’s” “teachers” telling me, with full sincerity, “When I go down on a client, I am channeling the energy of past and present gurus into him. He may not know it, but he’ll feel it.” I grabbed my dog, got into my car, and hightailed it out of Southern California.
I used to think that was the most fantastic experience of my life. Turns out it’s celebrating my fourth year as a perfumer. Who would have seen that coming?
Thank you everyone for being on this journey with me. I will never not be grateful for you and your support. This next year is going to be better than any yoga sex cult.