It’s Monday, the rain is here and simultaneously urging everyone back to their normal lives. It’s a little sad knowing that many of the people I’ve met and now consider friends won’t be back for a while, but it’s also nice to know that many will be here all Winter long. Not to be naked, necessarily, but to be with friends.
The residents call me “Hermit” and I kind of like it. But only because it reminds me of “Kermit” when people say it. I like rhymes and muppets, so I call it a win-win.
What I don’t like is the distinction, and partially why I came to a nudist park was to become a more social animal (like Kermit). I’ve never been comfortable in crowds or even making new friends, so I figured you really couldn’t hang out naked with people and not interact. Plus, I thought it would be a great place to gather some writing inspiration and, I guess, live life rather than watch it float by.
As it turns out, all of the reasons I came here and the changes I was trying to force in my life are now coming to fruition. I’m really enjoying the social interaction, and much more than I ever thought I could. My time here has been perpetually pleasant and becomes more so each day. And then, it happened.
In a couple of my earlier posts, or one of them, I don’t know, hangover… I talked about tackling some construction projects while completely naked. Here and here. (I looked it up, despite all of the extra work. That’s how much I care about your experience.)
I’ve built stuff with scrap wood laden with rusty nails, used multiple power tools (incorrectly), and have somehow managed to not severely injure myself. And when I consider this, I giggle at the irony of my first nudist accident being caused by a grasshopper. (That’s right, a grasshopper. Or something that looks like a grasshopper, but it flies, and therefore scares the crap out of me.)
I was on my way to the last bash of the weekend and as I left my cabin, my motion-sensing light came on. And as usual, the flying grasshopper smashed his face into it. Then I started thinking, “I’m so glad I don’t have an instinct built-in that makes me throw myself face first into any light source I see.” Then I smirked, because I amuse myself.
Anyway, I think it knew I was making fun of it. We locked eyes, and it was clear I was in a standoff of some kind. This doorway wasn’t big enough for the both of us. The question became, “Who is going to make the first move?”
As if reading my mind, the beast seemed to sense I was contemplating my next course of action. And rather than allow me time to strategize, he leaped with vampire-like speed and came directly for my manhood.
Big mistake, grasshopper.
There are few natural instincts that are as evolved or as honed as those of a man protecting his penis from attack. It was like the training kicked in, as if I were some kind of naked Jason Bourne. The blinding speed at which my right hand moved without thought surprised the grasshopper, and even me.
The mighty blow sent him reeling. He hadn’t anticipated the repercussions of his actions, nor how vehemently I would defend my sacred turf. He obviously hadn’t considered that I would rather bludgeon my man-stuff with a vicious right hook than let a bug anywhere near it.
Then again, maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.
I’d like to welcome back the fearless Stuey from his brief medical leave and we’ll be doing an interview on that soon. I’d also like to offer a special thanks to Manny for pulling together a 3-night party and “Mannying” the bar all three nights. (See? This is why I crack myself up.) To all my new friends, I truly enjoyed meeting you and look forward to drinking weird, but tasty stuff with you again.