My Brief Nudist Past
Nancy over at Not Quote Old challenged me to write this, but before you get all titillated, understand that nudism as a lifestyle is worlds away from pneumatic young babes cavorting in g-strings at a “gentlemen’s” club.
Nudists run the gamut in age, gender, size, shape and degree of attractiveness, and they are not self-conscious abbot letting all the flab and private parts hang.
A year or so before I met my husband, I dated a committed nudist (who was also a Pagan, but that’s another story). He walked around his house (and sometimes, to his neighbors’ dismay, around his yard) in the altogether. A six-foot-three, 230-pound redhead, this guy was as pasty as if he’d been dipped in flour.
That summer he invited me to a pool party with his nudist club. I enjoyed skinny-dipping when I lived in a house with a secluded pool, so I agreed to go. After we arrived, we went inside and undressed. Despite the general blasé vibe, I still felt awkward and spent most of the party in the pool.
I have no moral or philosophical objections to nudism. I just think it’s silly. Everyone carries a towel, for hygienic purposes, which tells me God invented clothes for a reason.
While a summer pool party makes certain sense, when New Year’s Eve rolled around and this guy wanted me to go to a party at which, instead of getting dressed up we’d take off our clothes, I balked. Hanging out in the pool on a hot day is one thing; stripping at a stranger’s house in the middle of winter is totally another.
The boyfriend wouldn’t budge and neither would I, so we went to separate events. At brunch on New Year’s Day, I broke up with him, not only because he put his desire to spend a big evening unclad over my desire to be dressed, but because we were just not a good match in many areas.
That September I met the man I was to marry, and we’ve been together more than 20 years.
The summer pool party, held discreetly behind a privacy fence in someone’s back yard, should have been no big deal, but danged if we didn’t get raided!
It seems some old geezer wandered into the neighborhood to put on a little show, and someone–probably not for the first time–called the cops.
Fortunately, the officer was nice and we all got dressed and went home, ending my brief foray into nudism.