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Tony Lawrence: Why I am a Nudist
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Four decades ago, a group of my classmates formed a "nudist camp"
in the woods behind our Elementary School. I'm certain that
part of what drove that was the beginnings of interest in sex,
and I'm sure that my own motives for joining them probably had
a great deal more to do with that sort of curiousity and perhaps
naughty rebellion than any more lofty ideals.
I don't remember how long our club lasted. I suspect not long;
this would have had to been either near to the beginning or the
end of the school year for New England weather to have allowed
it, so either Winter or school vacation would have ended it rather
quickly. I'd guess it was a few weeks at best.
I can't remember how many of us were "members". A handful,
four or five, definitely no more. I can't remember any
of their names, and I can't remember any of our conversations
or activities. I'm sure we talked about girls, and perhaps
we hoped that one or two would "discover" us, or that somehow
one of us brave enough to try would convince some young lass
to join us. I don't recall if anyone even tried, I don't
remember anyone noticing us (not many girls went exploring
in the woods back then). Plainly I remember next to nothing
about this whole brief incident.
But I do remember feeling free. Oh, I'm sure I also felt
"naughty" and daring, and "wicked", and perhaps even felt
sexy in some pre-pubescent way, but I don't remember those
feelings. I do remember feeling free.
Freedom was important to me. I felt school was a prison, a
place that bored me with knowledge I either already possessed
or had no interest in. I hated the teachers, because most of
them were obviously stupid, and not only could not answer the
interesting questions I had, but often were not even aware of
things that outside books had already taught me. There
were exceptions, of course, but not enough to stifle the
rage caused by society caging me against my will.
Those few days or weeks of after school nudism were a slap
back at that society. Clothes represented just another of
stupid people's arbitrary rules, and shedding them was both
an act of defiance and a celebration of unfettered freedom.
But it wasn't enough, really. After all, we had to hide in
the woods, and there was danger involved. Frankly, it couldn't
have impressed me all that much, because I totally forgot
about it until someone reminded me of it at a High School reunion
ten years ago.
My next experience with nudism came decades later at Moonstone Beach.
I've related that elsewhere
(Moonstone Beach)
but I've never talked about what our feelings were.
I suppose it will anger and annoy some here to hear me say that our
experiences were most definitely sexual, were voyeuristic, and
that these things were a good part of our early enjoyment of nudism.
To those people, I say "tough". Unlike them, I don't think it's
wrong to feel horny, I don't think it's demeaning if you are
sexually excited by another person, and I refuse to pretend otherwise.
We can enjoy people at many levels. There is absolutely nothing
wrong with objectifying someone for your own mental sexual amusement,
and when you are unaccustomed to nudity, it is completely unrealistic
to insist that anyone would not.
Whenever I think about this, I remember a particular incident at
Moonstone where we happened to be parked next to a group of
young people. There was a girl who was particularly attractive,
and I honestly enjoyed the fact that she was naked and near to
me. However, there very quickly arose another reason to enjoy
her, because she began giving an impromptu lecture on migrating
from C to C++. Apparently the whole group was composed of programmers,
and she knew her stuff, explained concepts very well, and I eavesdropped
with a great deal of enjoyment.
So, there I was, enjoying someone for two very different reasons. In
both cases, she was completely unaware that I was "using" her for
my own pleasures. Why should I be ashamed of either of them? I
simply refuse to be.
But, familiarity breeds contempt, or at least jades us. The sexual
excitement of seeing other naked people faded a little bit with
each visit, and by the end of the summer we could actually arrive
at home and not immediately jump into bed :-) It's not that
it ever goes away entirely, but like everything else, we got used
to it.
But something kept us coming. Moonstone Beach closed, and we
started going to camps. Certainly the sexual interest was not
what pulled us, and neither of us likes volleyball :-).
I am certain that freedom is the primary attraction. Freedom
from arbitrary rules. Freedom from oppressive sticky clothes
worn against our will. A brief island of at least partial
sanity.
I think that is also why those who would bring rules to nudism
arouse my anger so easily. While rules about genital jewelry
or lingerie or shaving have no bearing on us personally, they
are definite reminders that the ugly head of intolerance and
stupidity can find its way into our sanctuary. I resent that,
and it angers me, because freedom is for all of us. We all
deserve it, and none of us should have to live in prisons.
There are some here who do not like my opinions. They have
even said that my opinions are harmful to nudism. If the nudism
to which they refer is the intolerant, rule-making nudism, then
I most definitely *want* to be harmful to that nudism. I want
to destroy it, and bury it where it will never bother anyone
again.
Freedom is not simply the ability to do what *you* like to do. Freedom
is far too important to be doled out by scared little people who
scheme how they can best control us so that their little worlds
are not upset by anything untoward, anything different, anything
that does not meet their ideas of how the world should work.
Nudism is freedom.
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