LPSG has all kinds of threads on locker rooms. Spycam pics, vents about gym creeps, rants about towel dancing--locker rooms are a complicated subject in the post-gay-revolution world, because it's the one remaining place in the average Joe's life where the once-common practice of social nudity continues on. I'm starting this thread to discuss social nudity, and I'll begin by telling my story. The story is long, so I'll break it into three parts: thesis, antithesis, and metathesis.
About me: I'm 29, Bi, and atheist. I've been that guy who changes in the bathroom stalls of locker rooms. I've also been the type of guy who takes a week-long vacation at a nudist resort. And, as much as it pains me to admit it, I've also been a cruisey locker room creep.
Thesis: Innocence
I went to BYU, the infamous Mormon university, and when I started there, I was a devout believer. That didn't stop me from exploring other philosophies, though. One day, I heard about some hot springs not too far from campus, and I checked them out. When I arrived, I found that I had the place to myself. I chose a shallow pool by the waterfall. The water was warm and relaxing, and the scenery was eden-like (for Utah). After twenty minutes of unbroken isolation, curiosity overwhelmed me: what would it be like to soak in this pool naked? I took off my trunks. It felt amazing! The warm water enveloped my body, pulled out all my tension and anxiety, and lulled me into a deep peace.
"Hello."
I sat up, alarmed to be seen. A man and two women were walking up to the pool. "Oh, shit!" I thought. "They're gonna call the cops! Or worse, *laugh* at me!!!" No such thing happened. They nonchalantly disrobed and got in the pool. We had an enjoyable conversation. They had met on the trail up to the springs. One was a former Evangelist, one a not-so-devout Mormon, and the third had never been religious. We told our stories, shared some jokes, and in general enjoyed each other's company. After a while, I got out, dressed, and took my leave. Mulling over the experience, I settled on three points:
1) Nudity is not sex.
The two women were gorgeous enough (and the man was hung enough) to be porn stars. I myself was in great shape, six-pack and all. However, nobody was sexually aroused by anyone else's nudity. If arousal isn't a result of visual stimulation, what is it a result of?
2) The human body is beautiful
Once I stopped seeing it as one big erogenous zone, I began to appreciate the true nobility and natural grace of the human figure. I could see why it had been depicted in countless paintings and photographs. The human body is the paragon of beauty.
3) Naked people are awesome
These nudists impressed me with their unpretentious manner. Where my church friends fought to maintain a facade, my new friends were open and honest about what they believed and wanted. It made it easy for me to be open and honest. It was refreshing and socially fulfilling.
I returned to the hot springs as often as I could. I rarely ran into the same people twice, but most of the people I met were naked, were unbothered by my nudity, and exemplified all three of the points listed above. Not everyone was as gorgeous as those first two women, but everyone was treated with respect. The time I spent with them did wonders for me psychologically, helping me deal with the social anxiety that plagues many 20-somethings and exposing me to mind-broadening perspectives.
With new-found confidence, I confronted a fear that had paralyzed me for years: swimming. I didn't know how to swim, was terrified of the water, and had been too ashamed to be seen shirtless. I resolved to change all that. I signed up for a swimming class at BYU, and I learned how to swim. The class was 10 minutes shorter than the typical class, so that we'd have time to shower. Day one, we funneled into the locker room after class and got in the showers with our swim trunks on. The showers were 4 posts spaced every 8 feet, each with 6 shower heads. We showered quietly and awkwardly at first, and I thought "Hell, no!" and dropped my trunks. Nobody said anything about it, but soon, everyone else was dropping their trunks. Within a couple minutes, we were all naked, chatting, and bonding on the level I mentioned in #3 above. This became the after-class norm, and it led to meaningful friendships and even research opportunities as people made connections with other students in their fields. On one occasion, one swimmer got a boner, but nobody freaked out or said anything about it.
In these experiences, I cultivated a deep respect for the human body and an appreciation for the important bond that comes from social nudity. But then, that was a rather innocent and naive time, and it soon changed.
About me: I'm 29, Bi, and atheist. I've been that guy who changes in the bathroom stalls of locker rooms. I've also been the type of guy who takes a week-long vacation at a nudist resort. And, as much as it pains me to admit it, I've also been a cruisey locker room creep.
Thesis: Innocence
I went to BYU, the infamous Mormon university, and when I started there, I was a devout believer. That didn't stop me from exploring other philosophies, though. One day, I heard about some hot springs not too far from campus, and I checked them out. When I arrived, I found that I had the place to myself. I chose a shallow pool by the waterfall. The water was warm and relaxing, and the scenery was eden-like (for Utah). After twenty minutes of unbroken isolation, curiosity overwhelmed me: what would it be like to soak in this pool naked? I took off my trunks. It felt amazing! The warm water enveloped my body, pulled out all my tension and anxiety, and lulled me into a deep peace.
"Hello."
I sat up, alarmed to be seen. A man and two women were walking up to the pool. "Oh, shit!" I thought. "They're gonna call the cops! Or worse, *laugh* at me!!!" No such thing happened. They nonchalantly disrobed and got in the pool. We had an enjoyable conversation. They had met on the trail up to the springs. One was a former Evangelist, one a not-so-devout Mormon, and the third had never been religious. We told our stories, shared some jokes, and in general enjoyed each other's company. After a while, I got out, dressed, and took my leave. Mulling over the experience, I settled on three points:
1) Nudity is not sex.
The two women were gorgeous enough (and the man was hung enough) to be porn stars. I myself was in great shape, six-pack and all. However, nobody was sexually aroused by anyone else's nudity. If arousal isn't a result of visual stimulation, what is it a result of?
2) The human body is beautiful
Once I stopped seeing it as one big erogenous zone, I began to appreciate the true nobility and natural grace of the human figure. I could see why it had been depicted in countless paintings and photographs. The human body is the paragon of beauty.
3) Naked people are awesome
These nudists impressed me with their unpretentious manner. Where my church friends fought to maintain a facade, my new friends were open and honest about what they believed and wanted. It made it easy for me to be open and honest. It was refreshing and socially fulfilling.
I returned to the hot springs as often as I could. I rarely ran into the same people twice, but most of the people I met were naked, were unbothered by my nudity, and exemplified all three of the points listed above. Not everyone was as gorgeous as those first two women, but everyone was treated with respect. The time I spent with them did wonders for me psychologically, helping me deal with the social anxiety that plagues many 20-somethings and exposing me to mind-broadening perspectives.
With new-found confidence, I confronted a fear that had paralyzed me for years: swimming. I didn't know how to swim, was terrified of the water, and had been too ashamed to be seen shirtless. I resolved to change all that. I signed up for a swimming class at BYU, and I learned how to swim. The class was 10 minutes shorter than the typical class, so that we'd have time to shower. Day one, we funneled into the locker room after class and got in the showers with our swim trunks on. The showers were 4 posts spaced every 8 feet, each with 6 shower heads. We showered quietly and awkwardly at first, and I thought "Hell, no!" and dropped my trunks. Nobody said anything about it, but soon, everyone else was dropping their trunks. Within a couple minutes, we were all naked, chatting, and bonding on the level I mentioned in #3 above. This became the after-class norm, and it led to meaningful friendships and even research opportunities as people made connections with other students in their fields. On one occasion, one swimmer got a boner, but nobody freaked out or said anything about it.
In these experiences, I cultivated a deep respect for the human body and an appreciation for the important bond that comes from social nudity. But then, that was a rather innocent and naive time, and it soon changed.
