INCIDENTALLY BARE IN SAN FRANCISCO
I cannot bring myself to do that.
Being naked in public is NOT a free-speech issue.
Nor even a constitutional right.
Please do not try to tell me that disapproving of public nakedness shows that I lack self-confidence, and have issues with my body.
I have issues with your body.
Especially if you are a middle-aged man.
Yeah, I know, sexist and SO closed-minded of me.
You immediately picked up on the fact that I haven't objected to naked females. But there's a very good reason for that; most of the world's nasty in-your-face exhibitionists aren't female.
When you see a naked woman on the street, you are likely to think "good heavens, what's wrong, something must have happened".
A naked man in public, however, is simply a pervert with a big ego.
This blogger has nothing against nudity. In private, and in context. Being naked is not a praestation to share with the world, nor a matter of any self-assurance. Anyone who has ever willingly been naked in the presence of another person does not want for physical confidence, and will tell you that it was probably a wonderful experience. In private. In context.
With one other person.
Even if it was a doctor.
I myself am frequently more-or-less naked. But I have the good taste not to exhibit that state at inopportune times or in inappropriate venues. To the very best of my recollection I am never nude in public.
The times when I lack clothing are during and after bathing (mmmm, soapy hot water!), in between different styles of habiliment (day wear versus jammies), and on several occasions after my apartment mate has gone out and won't be back for a while.
Being currently in between jobs, comfortably so, I have recently been naked quite often during the day. In fact, some events absolutely seem to demand comfortably nudity. Watching classic movies, for instance, especially the black-and whites.
Maltese Falcon - nudity, an English mixture in the pipe, and ginger ale.
The Bridge of San Luis Rey - nudity, flake tobacco, black coffee.
The Lives of a Bengal Lancer - nudity, Escudo rounds, tea.
When you really think about it, almost everything with Claude Raines and Humphrey Bogart is best watched in the buff. There's less distraction.
Gone With The Wind, probably something tight.
All recent Sci-Fi needs an overcoat, and possibly a straight jacket.
Yes, there is a marvelous freedom to being entirely birthday-suited. And many people quite rightly associate it with happiness. But it isn't a social skill, nor is it something the world wants you to share.
Even if you like other people around, it is right to show some discrimination.
Do they desire it? Do they actually feel that circumstances require it?
Are they likely to appreciate the effort?
Is there reciprocity?
If those exhibitionist freaks at Castro Street were really sincere, they would go unclothed during icy-cold rainstorms in the middle of winter. After dark.
Nothing says sincerity about naked self-expression than freezing your soggy butt off when nobody is watching.
Go ahead. I will gladly read about loads of pearlescent white flab poncing about, shivering and quaking during downpours.
I can paint quite the mental picture of the proceeding.
But I shall not be there, even with a towel.
Conceivably some of us might also be naked at the time.
Indoors. Warm, safe, and toasty, with a pipe.
Watching Boris Karloff as Imhotep.
With someone else.
Plus a cup of tea.
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