Fleekin Floygn

My brown friend (Yeah. I have one. Step off!) and I were half-seriously chatting last night about the notion of seeing others naked. My history with shared nudity is illustrious; often times exploratory, occasionally shame based, but always fascinating. I've always been incredibly self-conscious about donning my own suit de birthday, most prominently in the Pan Am Pool change room between the ages of 4 and 10, which is so silly, cause it's not as though size is important at that age anyway. Unless you're a pedo, in which case, STOP READING MY BLOG. My Hungarian father was and still is very quick to point out that there is no shame such appropriate public nudity. Granted, this is also a 300 lbs. man who has met about a third of my friends in a t-shirt and micro-briefs. Despite his European sensibilities, something must have happened to me as a toddler to royally fuck up any normal perception of body image that may have developed.

Despite my aversion to grown ups seeing me au naturel (Blog goal: use as many euphemisms for nudity as possible), I was always the innocent yet pervy kid playing doctor or truth or dare with other kindergartners. Obviously it was never sexual at that age, nor is it to this day to imagine seeing a friend in the buff. It's still weirdly fascinating though. In high school, I had a couple of friends over and we decided to have a three-person toga party that lasted about an hour before it became a strategically placed pillows party. Nothing sexual happened, but it was indefinably exciting to transform my basement into a naturalist colony for a night.

Okay, so maybe it's time to introduce an Oversharing tag.

Perhaps my platonic approach to most nudity is fueled by the the dualistic, all-consuming of celluloid and online willies that abound. On the one hand, the permeating presence of over-the-top beauty has absolutely dulled my physical attractions to the point that I'm barely ever drawn to anyone who is not ridiculously out of my league, while at the same time the remainder of the populous become so desexualized that their nakedness is of no consequence. It's on par with seeing someone shirtless; just another detail I can add to the collage of the way I think of you all in my head. Like, brown friend would probably be like, "Aw, look! There's an anteater poking out of that there bush!...Wait."

Wow, that got deep yo! Well, 'bout as deep as The Immaculate Collection, which I think I'm gonna download so I can vogue out on the plane ride home Thursday night.