This is a series of conversations having to do with various aspects of nude living and recreation.  These conversations have occurred at various times and with various people.  Some of the people you may know from my other writings, but some of them I’ve never written about before.  I don’t claim that these conversations offer any new or great insights, but I’m hopeful that you’ll find them interesting or at least fun to read. 

Conversation 1

The setting:  My best friend, Julie and I were talking one day over lunch.  This was several months after we had taken her to our nudist campground to camp with us the first time.  I wrote about that in “Julie? Camping? For Real?”  The conversation turned to her work and then unexpectedly to how social nudity related to that.  Here’s how that part of it went. 

Julie said, “Mom and I were getting caught up on some stuff after closing the other night and she told me I was doing a good job.”

“Really?  How’d you fool her into thinking that?!” I replied, jokingly. 

“Funny, funny,” Julie quipped back, mockingly.  “You think I’m not good at what I do?  You don’t have the slightest clue about my world,” she said.  Then added, “Obviously” looking down her nose with an expression of distaste at what I was wearing.  It was just another joke to get me back. 

“OK, so tell me what your Mom said.”

“She told me she thought I was getting a lot more intuitive about what my customers were looking for.  You know…after they tell you what they think they want, but then you show them what they really meant.” 

Strangely enough, I understood most of what she meant by that. 

“So…why do you suppose that is?”  I asked without a clue as to what her answer might be. 

“Well…strange it may seem, I have to say it’s mostly because of going camping with you guys last summer.”

I could tell she wasn’t kidding around with me this time.  “OK, you’re gonna have to explain that to me.”

She just laughed, thought for a few seconds, and then said, “OK, I guess it’s like…before, when someone came into the shop, I decided what I was going to show them based mostly on what they were wearing already.  Yeah, they’d tell me what they were looking for, and I took that into account, but still…it was like…what you’ve got on already tells me what you want…or at least that’s how I’d start off with them.  See?”

“Yeah…OK…so what’s different now?”

“No, wait,” she said, holding up her palm to slow me down.  “That’s what I always did.  I mean like, all the time.  Even when I wasn’t working.  I was like…assessing the person by what they were wearing.  Not in a bad way or anything.  You know?  Not judging.  Just thinking to myself how I’d dress them if they were my customer.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!  But see, I always based it on what they were wearing…what they were already wearing.”

Following along, I asked, “OK, so what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  As far as it goes.  But it’s really only part of the equation.”

“OK,” I said in acknowledgement, then waited for her to go on.  When she didn’t, I just gave her a look of expectancy. 

“Now’s when you say ‘so what’s different now?’” she whispered, joking around like she was giving me a forgotten line in a play. 

I laughed.  “Alright.  What’s different now?”

“What’s different now…,” she began slowly, “is…when we were at the campground, here were all these women – potential customers – at least that’s how I saw them - and I had no point of reference.  You know?  They were all naked.  So I had no place to start in figuring out how I’d dress them.  You know what I mean?”

“Well…no…I guess I don’t, because they weren’t really customers.”

“I know, but like I told you - that’s just what I do with everybody I don’t know.  It’s just how I am.”

“You didn’t say anything about it then.”

“Well duh! It wasn’t exactly a normal situation for me then, you know, being naked in front of every man, woman, and child on the planet, who were naked, too.  It was like clothing ceased to exist.  And that’s traumatic for me on several levels, you know?”

“I know,” I said, laughing, “but you handled it so expertly.”

“Oh, yeah, right!” she said sarcastically.  “I lock my clothes in the trunk and then it was like, good-by clothes – hello boobs and pubes.”

I just laughed.  I knew she had gotten used to it pretty quickly, but still, it intrigued me what she was saying now about her thought process then.  So I asked, “So it was really that bad?”

She laughed, “No, it wasn’t so bad.  But it was different in ways that I hadn’t expected.  I mean, I found myself wondering what certain people would look like dressed.  And then when I saw them – like, when they were leaving or something – they looked totally different than I expected and that surprised me.  Go figure.”  And then with an impish look, she veered off on a tangent and asked, “Hey, do you think that’s the way it is for guys when they, like, mentally undress you?  Wouldn’t that be a hoot if it was?” 

I just shook my head.  “I wouldn’t know and I’d be afraid to ask,” I answered. 

“Hmm,” she said thinking and conniving out loud.  “How could we use this?”

Trying to bring things back to the subject at hand, I said, “OK, so tell me how all this ended up helping you in your work.”

“Oh yeah,” she said getting back on track.  “So it was like maybe on that last day after we’d been around some of the ladies off and on and I was thinking how I’d dress them – it never goes away, you know; it’s in my blood – anyway, so in my mind I was still deciding how I’d dress them, but now I found I was basing it on their personalities and their demeanor and how they carried themselves.  You know?  I mean, those things sorta came into play before, but I guess they were more of a secondary thing.”

I nodded in understanding. 

She continued, “But there at the campground, that was it.  That’s all there was.  Anyway, so next day at work, the first customer I help, I’m thinking to myself, I’m so glad she’s not naked so that I have someplace to start with her.  And that’s when it began to hit me that even if she was naked I’d still be able to help her.  And then I began to take those other things into consideration – you know, personality, demeanor, all that that I just mentioned.  You can get a good sense of those things even from just those first few seconds that you meet someone, you know.  Anyway, it went from there.” 

“Sounds like it must have made a big a difference,” I said.

“Yeah.  Like I told my mom, it was like I used to think the body was all about just showing off the clothes and I made judgments about what to show my customers based on how well they – their body - was showing the clothes they already had on.  I mean, I always knew that the purpose of clothing – at least, our clothing – is to convey a person’s sense of style and allow them to fit into whatever social situation they’re in and to make whatever impression they want to make.  But now, it’s like I’m more into seeing these other aspects of the person first – you know, who they are and what they’re about - and the clothing as adornment, subservient to the person and their needs.  I mean, sure, you’ve still got to consider the physical aspects, too – figure, skin tone, hair color, blah-blah-blah - but now it’s like those aren’t the first thing anymore.  They come into play after you know the person a little bit and know the direction they want you to take them.”  She paused, then asked, “Sound crazy?”

I jokingly replied, “Yeah, coming from you, it does.”

She gave me a look so I backed off saying, “Just kidding, just kidding.  Actually, it makes perfect sense.”  Then I asked, “So did you tell your mom how you came to these conclusions?”

“Well yeah!” she said and meant it.  She’s totally open with her mom about all this.  Then she went on to say, “In fact, I told her I thought we ought to have a sales meeting over at the campground sometime next summer.” 

“What’d she say to that?” I asked, laughing.

Julie laughed and said, “She said she was leaving it up to me to sell the staff on that one.”

* * *

Conversation 2

The setting:  This conversation occurred in the early fall several months after I had taken my sister-in-law, Beth and her friend, Gina out to my friend, Ann’s place to celebrate the end of their spring semester right before they both went home for the summer.  That had been the first time for both of them to swim nude.  I wrote about that time in “The Year 2005 in Review.”  This conversation took place between just Beth and I at our place. 

Beth said, “I guess I can see reasons for doing some things nude - things like swimming and laying out – stuff like that.  But I’m not like, fanatical about it, you know?  I mean, I don’t think that everybody should have to be like that or even want to be like that.”

“I agree,” I replied; then asked, “I didn’t think I was quite that pushy, was I?”

“No, I didn’t mean you.  I’m talking about Gina.”

“Yeah, Gina was a little wired that day, wasn’t she.  Maybe a little more than.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” she replied in a tone that conveyed the annoyance she had felt that day.

“Well…I can kind of understand where she’s coming from.  I used to be a little like that…when I first started.” 

“You were?  That’s kinda hard to imagine.”

I just responded with a facial expression of confirmation.

Shaking her head, Beth continued.  “But Gina was just so like, ‘oh, isn’t this great!’ and “oh, what took you so long?’ and ‘oh, lookee, lookee. lookee, you finally got naked.’  But you and Ann were like, ‘be however you want – we’re just glad you’re here – whatever – no big deal’.” 

“Just more relaxed about it, you mean?” 

“Yeah!  You guys are like, hey, this isn’t anything…you know…weird or radical.  It’s normal, too; just as normal as anything else.” 

“Well…OK…good!” I said.  “’Cause that’s exactly how we both really do feel about it.”  Than I added, “So…do you want me to talk to Gina or anything?”

“Nah.  She’ll chill.”  She paused; then followed with, “It may take a while though.”

* * *

Conversation 3

The setting:  This conversation occurred several years ago between me and a young lady who was about thirteen or fourteen at the time.  She and her family go to our church, but I mostly became acquainted with her at the pool where I worked part time as a life guard.  She was somewhat of a regular at the pool along with some of her friends.  On this particular occasion, it was after her friends had all gone home and she was sitting at the edge of the pool waiting for her mom to pick her up. 

“Hey girl,” I said in greeting as I walked by.  I was on duty, but things were pretty quiet. 

“Oh, hi,” she replied.

“Looked like you guys we’re having a lotta fun,” I said casually.

“It was alright,” she replied blandly.

I laughed and said, “That didn’t sound too convincing.”

“Oh.  It’s just my stupid boyfriend,” she said.

“Oh?” I replied, intending to show interest without prying.

“Yeah.” A pause.  Then with a hint of hurt in her voice, she said, “He said I look fat in this suit.”

I felt a tinge of anger when I heard that.  This young lady was anything but overweight.  She might not have fit the body ideals defined by our culture – hardly anyone does - but she was very pretty and looked fine in what she was wearing, especially for her age.  I thought about how misguided boys that age can be, not to mention tactless, and I thought about saying something to that effect, but then decided on a different approach.  “Your boyfriend needs to get the chlorine out of his eyes,” I said.

She got my meaning and laughed.  Then reverted back to hurt and added, “He says stuff like that to me a lot.”

“Why does he do that?” I asked.  “It’s so not true.”

“I don’t know.  Maybe it is true,” she said.

“No, it’s definitely not true,” I said firmly and sincerely trying to convince her.  “You’re a very pretty girl.  And that’s a cool suit.  Color, style, fit, everything.  You look great in it.  Don’t listen to anybody who tells you otherwise.  OK?”

“Thanks”, she said looking down at herself.  “But I’m thinking maybe of ditching it.”

I paused a moment, then offered, “Maybe you need to think about ditching your boyfriend,” partly joking, partly not. 

“Maybe,” she said.  “He’s not very nice sometimes.”

“Have you thought about it?” I asked.

“Yeah, but…” her voice trailed off. 

I knew what she was thinking.  The unsaid part of her sentence was, ‘but I don’t want to not have a boyfriend.’  I could relate.  I remember those days.  I had silly worries like that back then, too, thinking that I had to be able to say I had a boyfriend or it just wouldn’t be cool.  The only thing I could think to say to her was, “You know, sometimes you’ve got to let go of something in order to be available for something better.” 

She was quiet, but I knew she heard me.  I added simply, “Just something to think about.” 

* * *

Conversation 4

The setting:  Brian, my husband had come home sick with the flu one day last winter.  Fever, chills, dizziness.  And it was getting worse as the evening went on.  Also, Beth, his sister had come over to do her laundry.  Not the best timing, but that’s how it had worked out.  Since she was there, I asked her to listen for Brian in case he needed anything while I made a quick trip to Walgreens to see what I could find to help him feel better.  He was in bed asleep when I left, but while I was gone, he got up and came out into the hall on his way to the other bathroom looking for Tylenol.  He was nude, of course.  I had told him Beth was there, but he was so out of it that he either didn’t hear me or didn’t remember.  Anyway, he was so dizzy he stumbled against the wall and fell.  Beth heard him, ran up, and helped him back to bed.  He wasn’t hurt, but when I got back and heard what happened, I decided I’d better just take him to urgent care. 

Later, after we were home again and Brian was back in bed asleep, I said, “Hey, Beth, I’m really sorry about Brian coming out nude like that with you here.  You know it wasn’t intentional, don’t you?”

She said, “Yeah, I know.  Don’t worry about it.”  She didn’t seem fazed.  She added, “I just hope he gets better soon. I’ve never seen him so sick.”

“I know – me either.  It’s kind of scary.  But the doctor says it’s nothing to worry about.  Just the flu.  Thanks again for helping me get him there.”

“It’s OK.  Glad to help.  After all, he’s my brother.” 

“Yeah.  And thanks for understanding…you know…about the nudity.”  I was still concerned. 

But she said, “It’s OK.  It wasn’t, like, shocking or anything.” 

“That’s good,” I replied, remembering a time when it for sure would have been.  

She continued with, “Yeah, I guess it’s like, when you already know something…and then you see it…it’s like, oh, I knew that…and then you just go on.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I said, thankful for her growing maturity and attitude. 

* * *

Conversation 5

The setting:  We were hosting a home study group at our place.  This was part of a church-wide emphasis on a particular topic that would last a couple of months.  The people in our group were mostly around our age and the couple leading us was a little older.  A typical evening would start off with refreshments and socializing as people arrived and then we would begin the study. 

On this particular evening after we had been meeting for five or six weeks, it was during the socializing time and it was about time to start the study.  The wife of the couple leading us needed to use the bathroom before we started and I suggested she use the one up in our room since the other one was occupied.  When she came back down, our conversation resumed and then took a surprising little turn.  She had seen the life drawing of me on the wall in our room.  I’m posed in a sitting position such that my face is mostly hidden behind my arm, but it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out that it’s me. 

“You have a lovely home here,” she said with sincerity.  We were in the kitchen.  I was making sure there were refreshments for anyone that might come in late or just want something else.  It was just she and I talking. 

“Thanks,” I said.  She had said that before, so I assumed this time she was talking about our bedroom. 

Then she went on, “I couldn’t help noticing the drawing in your bedroom.” 

“Oh…yeah,” I said in acknowledgement, wondering where this might be headed. 

“That’s you, isn’t it,” she said. 

“Mm-hmm,” I answered slowly, cautiously testing the waters. 

“I don’t think I could do that,” she stated. 

Her demeanor and tone of voice sounded like she had a genuine interest in discussing this.  There was no indication that she was judging me or preparing to criticize or reprimand me.  Although we hadn’t known each other before our home group began meeting, I felt that she and I had developed a good friendly rapport since then, so I decided that I’d just go ahead and be forthright.  After all, I was confident there was nothing wrong with what I’d done and I was prepared to explain and discuss it with her as much as she wanted.  And so I began: “I was doing a favor for a friend in college.  It was for one of her art classes.”

“Oh,” she replied.  It was a simple response, but I detected a certain something in her expression when she heard me say that the artist was a “her.”  I don’t know if it was relief that I hadn’t posed in front of an entire class or exactly what it was, but I continued.

Referring to what she had said just before that, I said, “I assume you mean the nudity.  I have no problem with that.”  I intentionally used present tense.  “The hard part for me was the posing – holding still in one position for so long.  That gets really hard.  Seems like forever.”

“I see,” she acknowledged.

“But at least I got a drawing out of it,” I said.  “I’d kinda forgotten about it until I was packing to move when we got married.  I gave it to Brian.  He decided to frame it and put it up.” 

“How interesting,” she said in a tone that continued to sound like she actually found all of this, well, interesting.  And that was the end of it.  We went in and joined the others.  I thought she might bring it up again later or on another evening, but she didn’t. 

* * *

Conversation 6

The setting: Our place. It was a Saturday, early afternoon. Brian had gone into work that morning and was now on his way home, running a little behind schedule as is often the case. Jeff was coming over. They were going to meet up and go do something or other (driving range or batting cage or something fun like that). Jeff showed up first – early, in fact, but only because he thought they were meeting a half-hour earlier than they really were.

I heard the doorbell immediately followed by a familiar knock, so I knew who it was. “Come on in!” I shouted from the kitchen. I was busy doing something or other.

“Hey!” Jeff shouted in greeting as he let himself in.

“I’m in here,” I responded back.

“Hey,” he said again as he entered the room. “I thought I was way late, but I guess Brian’s not even home yet?”

“He’s on his way,” I answered. “You’re actually a little early.”

“I am? I thought we were gonna meet at 1:00.”

“Nope. 1:30. That’s what Brian said.”

“Dude then I really am early…for once.”

“For once,” I said, laughing. He laughed, too. We both knew it was a rare event not likely to happen again anytime soon. I pointed to the refrigerator and said, “Help yourself. I’ll be right back.”

I left and ran upstairs. I’d been out running earlier and had gotten out of my sweaty clothes as soon as I got home, but hadn’t taken a shower or dressed yet. I grabbed a clean top and shorts, slipped them on and hurried back down.

I walked back into the kitchen. He had gotten a Coke. There was no particular reaction on his part at me getting dressed, but I felt an explanation was in order – just out of courtesy and respect between good friends.

I said, “Hey, I, uh, decided to throw something on just because it’s just you and me here – alone and all. There’s nothing wrong. It just seemed like the right thing to do – for me to do.”

I think he thought I was apologizing or something. In response, acting a little surprised or perplexed he said, “Oh. No. I mean, that’s fine. Whatever’s most comfortable for you.”

I sensed a little awkwardness in the air and added reassuringly, “Look, you didn’t do anything. This is all on me. It’s my thing, OK?”

“Yeah. No, I totally understand.” And I sensed he did now.

As I started back to what I was doing, he said, “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” I knew he was referring to how he and I had badly mishandled the situation with Julie way back at the beginning of their relationship.

“Yeah, we have,” I said with a knowing smile. Then added: “I’m sure sorry we learned some of it the hard way though.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I had to learn a whole lot more the hard way,” he responded. He was now referring to their long break-up after he graduated and the subsequent struggle he had convincing her to get back together when he had a change of heart.

“Well, I guess the important thing is that we learn from it and move on. I mean, move forward…you know? Not make the same mistakes again.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It seems to me like you guys have done that.”

“Yeah. I think we have.”

“I’m glad. And I’m really happy for you – for both of you. We both are.”

“Thanks,” he said. Then added: “You know, to be honest, I’ve learned a lot just being around you and Brian. I think Julie has, too. You guys have it together better than anybody we know.”

I knew what he was saying was true of Julie – she and I often talk all about relationships – our feelings, our hopes, our observations, what we think it means, and what we think we should say or do in certain situations. She and I can share anything and everything, and we do. There’ve been times I’ve been very candid with her about what I was observing both with her and with them as a couple. Yeah, I guess I’ve been an influence, and an example, too, it sounds like, but it goes both ways.

About that time Brian arrived home. As he walked in, he said to Jeff, “Dude! I must be even later than I thought!” We all laughed.

* * *

Conversation 7

The setting: Our new place. It was early evening – late fall or early winter. Beth, Brian’s sister was over. The three of us had converged right after work and were sharing a meal. The conversation around the table was light-hearted.

Beth said, “You guys need to get a hot tub.”

Brian responded, “Not in the budget any time soon,” then added jokingly, “that is, unless you help pay for it, Sis.”

“Oh, so you’d charge your own family to use it?” she quipped back.

“No…just you,” Brian responded, still in jest.

I said to Beth, “I thought you said one of your friends that you work with had a hot tub at their place.”

Beth responded, “She does. And she’s said I can come over anytime…but…” She didn’t finish the sentence.

Brian picked it up saying, “Well then, it sounds like you’ve got access to a hot tub already. How ‘bout getting us invited?”

She said, “Yeah…but…it’d just be more fun if you guys had one.”

Brian and I glanced across the table at each other. We both knew Beth was alluding to the fact that she had to wear a swimsuit to use the hot tub at her friends’ house and that that would not be the case at ours. I could also tell that Brian was getting ready to start something with her about it. I just waited.

After a few seconds of eating in silence, he responded matter-of-factly to Beth without looking at her, “You’re one of us.”

“What?” she asked, pretending she didn’t understand what he was talking about, but we knew she did.

Brian repeated, “You’re one of us.”

“No I’m not.”

“You are. You’re just in denial.” Brian continued to act serious even though he wasn’t.

“I am not,” she responded, smiling. She was starting to catch on.

“Don’t you think so, Sunny?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, it’s obvious to me,” I responded, also pretending to be serious, backing him up.

Brian pressed on: “Yep. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck… That’s what my boss always says.”

Beth stopped eating and looked from one to the other of us, realizing that we were teaming up on her. I was having a hard time trying to keep from smiling. We continued eating, pretending to be nonchalant.

“You guys…” was all she said to acknowledge our kidding.

Then after a few moments, she muttered in acquiescence, “Well…maybe…a little.”

* * *

Conversation 8

The setting: This is about my husband and me. It was at our place during the winter, around five or six months after we were married. It was late. We were in bed. It was…afterward.

Brian said, “Listen to that wind out there.”

“I know. Sounds so cold,” I said softly.

“Yeah. Just think,” he said, “last year somebody always had to go out in that and go home.”

“Not anymore.”

“No, not anymore. Glad those days are over.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Now both somebodys live in the same place.”

“Same bedroom” he added. He was already holding me, but he pulled me to him more firmly as he said that.

Then I added playfully, “Same bed.”

Not to be outdone, he added, “Same spot,” softly next to my ear.

“Mmmmm…I like to share,” I said, snuggling against him.

We lay like that for a moment, secure in each others arms, sharing warmth and closeness under the covers, nothing separating us.

Brian broke the silence saying, “Now all we have to worry about is who’s gonna get up and blow out the candles.”

“Not-it,” I said quickly almost before he finished his sentence.

“Alright, I guess you win,” he said pretending to say it grudgingly. “But keep the bed warm, would’ja?”

I laughed because it only takes about three seconds to jump up, blow out the candles, and then jump back in. But Brian was having one of his ornery spells. Now in total darkness, I felt him get back in bed on the other side and scoot across. I couldn’t help playing along. As he was climbing across me to get back to where he was before, I trapped him.

Playfully, he said, “Now let’s see…where was I? Is this my spot?”

“It is if you want it to be,” I said in my soft voice, pulling him down, kissing him.

“Mmmm….yeah, this is nice. I kinda like it here,” he said. “Do you mind sharing?”

“Why no, not at all.”

“You’re good at sharing.”

“I like sharing.”

“Even passionate about it, I’d say.”

“You could say that.”

We both laughed. He moved over to where he was before. We again lay in each others arms – peaceful, still, warm in the darkness. Quiet drowsiness began to settle in.

This time it was I who broke the silence saying quietly, “Good night. I love you.”

He surprised me by saying, “You know, I don’t think we should say good night any more.”

“Why not?” I asked. I had thought he was nearly asleep, but now I could tell he was still joking around.

He said, “’Cause that’s what we always used to say when we had to leave each other. Now, we don’t have to be apart anymore, so we shouldn’t say that.”

“Oh. OK. So what do you think we should we say instead?” I asked, playing along.

“I think we should just say, ‘I love you, I hope you sleep well, and I’m right here if you need me.’”

“OK, I’ll try to remember all that,” I said, laughing.

“See that you do,” he said in fake seriousness.

“Well what if I forget and say good night accidentally?” I asked, pretending to sound worried.

“Then…we’ll just have to start all over again.”

“Oh. Do you mean like…ALL…over?”

“Yep, that’s right…ALL over.”

“Oh. All over. Hmmm.”

We lay there quietly for a moment, letting the anticipation build. Then I laughingly blurted out, “GOODNIGHTGOODNIGHTGOODNIGHT!”

* * *