NothingToDread.com

I don't know about most nudists, but I love sharing the story about my first visit to a clothing optional resort. I suspect that I'm not alone. People get a little twinkle in their eye when they remember the moment it all clicked. For me it was walking out of the shower and into a hotel courtyard without bothering to dry myself off. Magic time. That may have been my first time, but the more I think about it, the more I realize, that a lot of other moments in my life helped prepare me for that first step into the courtyard.

I hit puberty while vacationing in Greece. The ads, especially soap ads, in Greek magazines frequently depict female nudity. Since I was a pubescent American boy not accustomed to nudity in mainstream publications, I started clipping soap ads like a maniac. I kept them all in a cookie tin hidden under the bed at my grandma's house. One day I showed my collection to a local cousin, and he surprised me by saying, "So what? You have a box full of soap ads". I pointed out the breasts, and he reminded me that they were soap ads. Harry Potter has nothing on my cousin. I'd like to see that scar-faced four-eyed orphan transform a box of juvenile pornography into a box of soap ads as easily as my ceramic spinning cousin did with just a few simple words. "You have a box full of soap ads".

Towards the end of high school, my friends and I got into the habit of cutting class and drinking beer on a secluded beach. Since access to the beach involved a breakneck climb down a steep embankment, we had the place to our self. It wasn't long before drunken skinny dipping and beach climbing ensued.

On Okinawa, I frequently took advantage of a public bathhouse located down the hill from my base. The ofuro tub, sauna, and steam room were nice, but my friends and I were mostly interested in the massage that was included in the entrance fee. I think it was something like $7.00, but I could be lying to you. This was a straight up legitimate establishment. It wasn't the kind of place that offered "happy endings" or "special" treatment. While we waited for our number to be called, we bathed, soaked in the ofuro, and sat in the steam room or sauna. There was no point in getting dressed for any of that, or for the massage. After receiving our massage we would get dressed and have a drink in the bar or relax in the lounge area. It was really a great deal.

A real awakening occurred during a backpacking trip that a friend and I took in Yosemite National Park shortly after I got out of the Marine Corps. We were overloaded and overambitious for our first time out. We got to our first campsite after dark and didn't waste any time getting to sleep after setting up camp. The following morning, while I stood with my back to the river talking to my friend across the fire, he crouched stirring our breakfast of powdered eggs and canned chili. I told you we were overloaded. Without warning, my friend's jaw dropped to his chest and our breakfast fell to the ground. His right hand kept stirring the empty air, while his left hand continued to hold an invisible pot handle. My friend appeared to be completely unaware of the fact that our breakfast had returned to the earth from whence it came. I immediately reached the only logical explanation or my friend's behavior. I was doomed. Certain that a very large bear was preparing to bite off the top of my skull; I slowly turned to face my fate. Slowly I turned and prepared to face not so Gentle Ben. Instead of Yogi gone wild, I saw a very beautiful, and very nude, raven-haired nineteen-year-old girl step out of the Merced River and reach for a towel.

The girl and her classmates were students participating in a three-pronged university study program focusing on the relationship between art, nature, and philosophy. You really have to love California. The entire semester was being taught in the high sierra backcountry. Backpackers travel light and these kids had figured out that swimwear is unnecessary baggage when there are no laws against nudity and nobody to complain if there were. It didn't take us long to figure out that staring at the girls would just make us look like idiots. I still remember the conversation that led to our conclusion that there was nothing sexual about the students' nudity. We just accepted that it was a natural part of our environment.

I visited my first clothing optional resort about a year after that backpacking trip. It makes sense that that experience combined with earlier incites helped me make the decision to stay at that resort when I could have just as easily decided to go stay with my friends in town. We talk about that first big step a lot, but we don't often mention the baby steps made it possible.

Mohamed was a Filipina buy-me-drinky-girl (Hostess) who worked in a "banana bar" on Okinawa's notorious BC Street. Before anybody gets his Islamic sensibilities in a twist, I'm not making her name up. It's not one of my cute little nicknames or pseudonyms. Mohammed, or Mo as I called her, was the daughter of an illiterate Filipino farmer (Or was he a fisherman?). He embraced Islam and named his daughter Mohammed long before he thought to sell her into indentured servitude. Anyway, I called her Mo. Mo worked under the name Maria.