Seems this fellow spends a month in the South of France each summer--at one of their nude beaches! I thought that he went there for the culture, the scenery and the food. Silly me: he was trying to sign me up to peel and swim. When I, politely demurred, thinking that the conversation would proceed on to other things, I was nonplussed as he continued to tell the joys of nudity, especially with his assortment of "friends" who were all women. Just why he found this topic so compelling puzzled me, but then, people get their jollies in particular ways.
It was another disappointment for me, to meet still another middle-aged fellow who was totally immersed in his life, his pastimes, and seemed to be seeking yet another potential nudist to sit beside him at the shore. I mentioned that I did not like getting sand in my privates, and that I did not enjoy viewing nude people, save one, specific fellow whom I did not name, nor describe.
This evening became excruciating, saved only by the fact that he had to drive four hours back to his home. I was relieved to return to my "clothing required" home, and to say farewell to this very sad, Hugh Heffner wannabe. I wished him peace, no pun intended, and godspeed.
And so, tonight I am dragging boxes down the ladder from the attic, boxes of Christmas decorations, and happy to be me. People get very odd as they age, alone. I hope I am not like that.
