Best of ’09: The One Where Someone Else Gets Naked and I Learn a Lesson

…also known as Best of ’09: Best Lesson Learned, Part 2 (Part 1 here) OR How I Learned Not to be a Prude. You choose the title you like best.

So you’ve heard about my traumatizing experience at the Moroccan Hammam. You’ve heard how I had to be all sorts of naked and scrubbed down by an equally naked woman with the biggest boobs I’ve ever seen. Got that allll covered. So now we can move on to the time I stayed with a nudist stoner.

So I’m in southern Spain, its like two weeks until I have to leave Europe and I decide last minute that I need to have one last beach holiday. My Rick Steves’ book tells me about this one little beach town that’s a hidden gem and it’s decided: I’m going there. (Sorry, name of town is hidden for the protection of the innocent. Or not so innocent. Whatever.)

I take one look at the two 40 year old couch surfers the town has to offer and decide a hostel is the better way to go. I find this ridiculously cheap hostel that has great reviews and decide to give it a try. Even though they give no address or directions to the hostel. Just that I have to call when I get there. Sketchy? YES. But all these people had given good reviews so I was going to risk it.

I’m picked up by this American guy who I find out owns the unmarked hostel where I am lead to. I also find out I’m the only one staying there and I’m starting to picture me being the star of my very own horror movie (for the second time this trip!) but the guy seems relatively normal and we start joking around pretty quickly so I figure I’m okay. As soon as I’m upstairs and settled into my own room, he pulls out the pot. And I’m all oh that’s pretty awesome. So he gives me a hit, I go out and see the town and its gorgeous and I’m on cloud nine because I’m in the most fucking beautiful place in the world and there’s free pot.

That night we sit and chat about everything; we smoke up, we drink beers, we smoke up some more and listen to Grateful Dead, Jerry Garcia Band and Bob Marley. He ends up being pretty hilarious with a thing for imitating accents and making fun of EVERYONE. (his impersonation of Bush and Obama had me on the floor) Total stoner but I was high too so I didn’t really care. Free pot! What’s not to love?

Plus he was pretty good looking.

What? Don’t look at me like that.

He started telling me about his underwear parties that he’d throw at the hostel when there was a bunch of girls and guys here. The girls would wear their underwear, and the guys would go completely nude. Sounded pretty awesome to me. I’d be down for that. I mean, this was the new me, I didn’t care about being naked anymore.

So the next morning I come downstairs and there he is, shirtless this time (which I totally didn’t mind) and smoking up. Offered me a hit which I declined due to the early hour and I headed down to the german pastry shop he’d recommended to have some fabulous struedel and to go sit on the beach. I’d go back every once in a while to the hostel and would hang out with my new stoner friend and got high throughout the afternoon. He’d kind of been hinting that he’s a little bit of a nudist and didn’t like wearing clothing. Talked about how if I wanted to sunbathe on the roof naked, I could. New me apparently still cared about being naked. At least in front of guys. I didn’t participate in that.

Blah blah blah day was awesome, fabulous sunset, go back to the hostel, make some dinner and sit down with him in the common area and start smoking up and drinking more beers. All of a sudden HE’S NAKED.

He was not kidding when he said he didn’t like clothing.

I did my best not to stare. Remember how he was good looking? It applied everywhere, lets just say.

He totally knew I was attempting not to stare so he would joke around and I would turn a few shades of red and stop looking at me like that.

I survived the first night of him naked and somehow, SOMEHOW, while both of us were high and drunk and him being very very naked, nothing happened. The next morning I come downstairs and oh HES STILL NAKED! Way too early in the morning for that kind of surprise but I do my best. I go out to the beach, lie out, and come back. We wind up on the roof terrace, me in my bikini and him….you know…naked. After a couple awkward moments that involves him staring at my boobs and then apologizing for it, we start talking about sex. We’d been talking about it before but at that point at least *I* was fully clothed.

I’m feeling more comfortable that there is a very attractive, very tan, very fit naked man in my presence that I’m not sleeping with, when all of a sudden he says “Umm…well I wouldn’t look over here. I’m kind of…happy.” Oh dear Jebus.

So what do I do? I look over. He laughs at me and then he asks me if I’ve ever seen an uncircumcised one. No, I had not. He managed to get my head to turn BACK in his direction and oh THERE IT IS.

And he’s awful proud of himself that he was the first one I’d ever seen. And then we start talking about length and girth and HOLY SHIT I DESERVE A FUCKING OSCAR FOR THE PERFORMANCE I GAVE. The performance that involved NOTHING HAPPENING. Did I mention he had a good body? Ahem.

He had mentioned on a previous night that at one party he had all the girls sign his dick. I had to leave that day for the next city and as I’m leaving (and he’s still naked) he’s all well I’d give you a hug…then he laughed at the expression on my face. Then he says, “I don’t usually ask just anyone but since you’re pretty damn cool, do you want to sign it?”

I politely declined.

So I may still be somewhat of a prude, but I definitely am a lot more loosened up thanks to my experiences abroad. Thank you, Europe, Africa and the nudist stoner.

Now enjoy this no-puns-intended picture of that gorgeous town.

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Best of ’09: The One Where I Get Naked and Learn a Lesson

Skipping ahead a bit and doing the Best of 09: Best Lesson Learned. I have a post coming up of my top ten lessons learned, but this one deserved its own post. It was just too good to keep to one little paragraph.

Best 09: The Best Lesson Learned, or How I Learned Not To Be A Prude

Have I told you the story of how I stayed with a nudist stoner in Spain? I didn’t? Well, I think I’m going to have to.

How does a nudist stoner have anything to do with best lesson learned, you may ask. Well, we will need to go into some background basics. You see, I’m an American Prude. Dictionary.com defines Prude as One who is excessively concerned with being or appearing to be proper, modest, or righteous. While that definitely does not describe me and many of my friends would probably choke on their own laughter, I have somewhat prudish tendencies when it comes to my body.

That’s not to say I wear turtle necks all the time and dresses down past my knees. I can rock a vneck and mini-skirt like the next one. I’m just….not really into getting naked around other people. I’m fine with nudity in my own home, I’ve been known to walk around naked all the time when I think no one is watching (unfortunately that doesn’t mean I remember to always close the blinds. Hi neighbors!) I sleep naked, I have no problem being naked in front of a significant other if that’s the stage we happen to be at, but put me in a locker room full of other people? And I get all self conscious and shy and shit.This was born around the age of 12 when I sprouted boobs. Puberty was not kind to me. Most girls were in trainer bras at that point but me? OH NO. I shot right past that stage and straight into C cups. It was mortifying. But anyway, this post is not about my boobs and how I was a traumatized pre-teen.

Before we get to the nudist (aka the good part of the story), I have to start at the beginning of this learning process. AKA Learning How Not To Be a Prude. I was in Morocco and Anneke, my traveling partner, wanted to go to a Hammam. I was fascinated by this concept of going to a ridiculously cheap spa and bathing. More fascinating was the cheap massage. The only problem would be there would be lots of other people. Who were naked. Who were going to be looking at me being naked.

The night before Anneke gave me a pep talk in our hotel room. She read stories from the Lonely Planet and I got alittle uncomfortable. I didn’t want women discussing my lady bits much less asking me about them. (I didn’t understand why mine would be any different from THEIRS but I guess the blond hair complex they had extended to…other places.) But I was determined to do it. Of course at the very last minute I started dancing around the idea of not doing it because ohmygod I HAD TO BE NAKED. VERY naked. WITHOTHERPEOPLE. *hives*

We went to a small hammam in the center of the town we were staying at and got paired up with our very own naked bath attendants. We had to strip down to nothing but our bikini bottoms and sit in a room full of other very naked women.  Let me tell you. Those bikini bottoms? Didn’t stop this woman. They bathed us, they exfoliated and they put their hands in places I never wanted anyone other than a boyfriend to put there. Even Anneke, an Amsterdammer who was a far cry from even a sixteenth-prude, was feeling uncomfortable as we were manhandled by the woman with the largest breasts I had ever seen.Also the worst case of gravity I had ever seen. Ew.

Sure, the amount of skin that was lost was incredible and I was the cleanest I’d been in two months but the part where the woman put my leg between her massive boobs and and then leaned and called that a massage? COULD HAVE DONE WITHOUT THAT.

It certainly went well beyond my comfort zone (I don’t think I’ll ever get manhandled in a locker room) and yet, I survived. And while I may have turned several shades of red writing this (believe me, this post has been edited a LOT. TMI may be my middle name sometimes), I’m not as shy about my body anymore. [Side note: The whole Morocco trip was actually a lesson in loosening up: we often had to share bedrooms with doorless bathrooms and have you heard rumors about Moroccan food? THEY ARE TRUE. So um yeah. Lesson in Losing Prudishness LEARNED.]

So where does the nudist stoner come in? I think I’m going to have to take this post into a.. PART TWO.

Yep, I’m going there. Going to the TO BE CONTINUED guns. Until tomorrow…