The Naked Truth

I'm not a very good naked person.  And oddly enough, I am attached to someone who is a nudist.  Stuart wasn't always "the naked guy."  He grew up in a climate so conservative that allowing your elbows to show could have been considered "asking for it."  My childhood was far more liberal, yet I was not.  


I was not a modest child until about the age of 6.  Prior to that, my favorite way to dry myself off after a bath was to run around the house naked until the water the was gone and I was baby-powder-dry.  The trail of tiny wet footprints in the carpet were the only evidence of the rubber duckie regatta that had just gone down.  


My best guess about my attitudes is once again related to my mom.  She was fairly open about sexuality and even threw her "sex clothes" into the laundry.  At age 13, I marched into the living room holding her crotchless panties with a pair of tongs and demanded to know what they were.  She explained and horrified, I threw them back into the washing machine determined never to spend money on underwear that doesn't actually cover anything.  That incident actually sums up much of my childhood...  I have to imagine there was a Puritan walking around missing their values because I had them and I wasn't giving them up.  


Not being a very good naked person, being interested in Burning Man and poly were sort of what led me to Stuart.  Edward had been dating a girl that I was not terribly comfortable with and it was difficult not to have any friends who "got it."  Stuart had a profile on a poly website I belonged to and eager to make friends (which, I want to be clear, was my ONLY intention), I sent him a note.  Although I was still clutching tightly to my modesty, I recognized I could use some loosening up.  


And it worked.  Some.  I am far less concerned about covering up when changing near other people.  I developed a group of friends with whom I was comfortable naked.  I have been topless at parties and at Burning Man...  I don't mind that so much although it's really a practical issue.  The girls prefer some support, get in my way when allowed to roam free, and it gets sweaty under there.  


[A side note...Stuart just woke up, realized I was writing, realized what I was writing about, lifted up his sarong and said "Should I be naked while you're writing that?"  I suppose I should be grateful my morning didn't start off with scrotum animals.]  


Our social environment brings a lot of nudity into my life.  On an intellectual level, it doesn't bother me.  They are bits, really no different than ankles or ears, and (most) everyone has them.  


On an aesthetic level, you'd never catch me wearing a t-shirt that says World's Biggest Scrotum Fan.  And scrotums attract a lot of attention on a naked guy.  They're really like the Hawaiian shirt of naked.  They're a little flamboyant, undiscriminating, and when one is near you, it's really tough not to notice it.  And for me, it's really tough NOT to zip tie it to it's more vagina-friendly counter-part, Mr. Penis.  Lest anyone think I'm a man-part-hater... I'm not.  I loves me some good penis.  And penis is probably responsible for my failure as a bisexual.  It just doesn't need a wing...pair.  Not as far as I'm concerned.  


On an emotional level, I am at times uncomfortable with nudity.  For me, nudity implies and invites a level of intimacy that I don't necessarily want.  I do recognize that it is 100% my own perception and that naked people are most likely not trying to be intimate with me.  I do, however, find it difficult to discuss my thoughts on the Obama administration when your schlong is inches away from my cup.  And...  I'm a girl.  I like a little mystery.  And at times, I'm a really petty girl and thus named an acquaintance MicroPenis because it was practically inverted.  And now, at parties, I really want to hug his girlfriend and tell her I'm sorry.  (Reason #56 that this blog is anonymous.  I'm a terrible person sometimes.  And if you're reading this, you probably already love me and this is not news to you or you've never met me and wouldn't know me from Adam.  Or Eve.  Or a transgendered combination of the two.)


In a social culture that is highly supportive of nudity and more specifically, naked chicks, I am content to let others fill that role.  Occasionally, I do feel a bit envious that I'm not like that, but it just isn't me.  


Besides, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing a Hawaiian shirt.