After years of trying to find guys in my area with whom I could be naked and vulnerable, I moved to a new city for a temporary job. Luckily for me, I learned this new city had a lot more nudists — and not just nudists, but nudist resorts and beaches galore! I thought I’d hit the jackpot.

After moving into my new apartment and getting settled, I set out on the nudist sites to find someone in the area. At last, I found another guy who lived nearby! His profile listed his sexuality as “bisexual” — which I’d normally avoid, as I preferred nudists as straight men. By this point, however, I figured, What the heck, I’ll take what I can get.

I started chatting with him.

After chatting with no red flags, we decided to meet up and go to a nudist resort in the area. My first trip to a nudist resort! Holy smokes! I would be naked with total strangers around.

Maybe I’d form a good, close friendship with the guy I was about to meet?

His name was Jeremy, and nothing seemed creepy about him. Nothing to suggest any ulterior motives. He was actually a police officer, so I kindly asked him not to arrest me for indecent exposure. To which he laughingly agreed.

We got our ID’s checked at the gate and drove into the resort. It was like entering another world. The one image that sticks out in my head was seeing a 240-pound naked older man puttering around on a golf cart. We parked our cars, and he asked if he wanted to show us around while we were clothed or let us get right to it and disrobe. I chose the latter.

The people there were mostly older or elderly, not the easiest on the eyes to say the least. One old woman walked with a walker, and her gut hung down to her knees. There were also fatter and more flamboyant men with body piercings who reminded me of the monsters from the movie, 300.

Jeremy and I later went to another nudist resort having a weekend for younger nudists. Needless to say, the people at this second resort were much easier on the eyes. As we hung out there for a while, I started to like how normal it began to feel. I liked forgetting I was naked and that other people were naked, losing some self-consciousness after a while.

One thing I noticed at the nudist resort was that sometimes people looked like they might have amazing bodies wearing their clothes, but without clothes they might actually have a muffin top. I can be insecure about how my body looks, so this was reassuring.

Jeremy and I decided to meet back at this nudist resort one Sunday and hang out for the rest of the young nudists weekend. Sunday came, and I arrived. But Jeremy wasn’t there. I called and texted him but got no answer. I hung out naked at the resort for a while but eventually left feeling confused about what happened to Jeremy.

A few weeks later, I texted Jeremy again and finally got a response saying, “Sorry, my aunt just passed away and it’s been difficult.”

Later, Jeremy and I decided to visit a nude beach. It was very nice as we walked naked along the beach for a while. Jeremy said he wanted to sunbathe by our towels, and I said I wanted to walk around some more. I went off on my own for about ten or fifteen minutes and came back to the towels, but Jeremy was nowhere to be seen.

My clothes and towel were still there, and I picked up my phone which had a text from Jeremy saying, “Hey, I forgot I was supposed to visit my grandpa in the ICU, so I had to leave early.”

I couldn’t believe it. Those texts seemed like pretty blatant lies or excuses, and part of me now thinks he was disappointed that I showed no interest in a sexual relationship — hence, why he gave up on me. Who forgets about visiting their grandparents in the ICU anyways?!

I stood on the beach alone, surrounded by naked people. I felt extremely abandoned.

It had been a hard time for me living in the new city. I still wasn’t making friends, my roommates had dumped me to live with other people they liked better, and now even the nudist guy had abandoned me. A naked middle-aged woman with nipple piercings walked up to me and asked what happened to my friend. I told her, and she acted shocked and said I probably shouldn’t bother being friends with him anymore, to which I agreed.

She then proceeded to say, “Well, when I saw you over there with him, trust me when I say that less is more, if you know what I mean. I have some friends who live nearby, and they’re very open minded and like to have fun. You know… have fun. I could introduce you to them if you’d like!”

“Oh, well, isn’t that interesting . . .” I mumbled.

“My name’s Trixie! I’m on Facebook!” she said.

“Oh — lookatthetimeitssuperlateIgottagonicetomeetyoubye,” I stammered and walked off the beach.

So, there it was. I had been naked with another guy and who knows how many other strangers. Did it affect me at all? Honestly, I didn’t feel like it had at all. It was an extremely lonely car ride back to my apartment.

Sure, I had been physically vulnerable, but there’s much more to vulnerability than literal nakedness with someone. I had bared my body, but I could not find someone with whom I could bare my soul, or vice versa.

I could not find a brother to love me, see me, and accept me.

In the next week, my job would end and I would go back home. I felt like I had failed.

Would I ever find other brothers to be vulnerable with?

To be continued . . .

Have you ever experimented with nudism or nudist resorts? Has nudism been beneficial for you or has it led you down darker roads of acting out?

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