That Burning Feeling

The fact that today was the first proper sunny day of Spring here in St.Louis gave rise to a number of other "firsts". For a start I had to give the lawn its first cut of the year, which meant starting up my geriatric, abused and utterly neglected lawnmower for the first time. It started as usual, confirming yet again my belief that attempting to maintain motorised appliances is futile since they will either work or not work according to some arcane rule of the universe, and there's fuck all you can do about it, so why waste time pulling the stupid things apart to lubricate them?

So I mowed the lawn and then lay in the hammock for a bit, listening to music. The hammock obliged me by not falling down (in spite of the fact that it has been left out in the rain and snow for a decade) and not dumping my arse on the ground. We had temperatures mostly in the seventies (Fahrenheit) today so it wasn't exactly blazing hot, but since I have skin the color of copier paper I managed to burn it in a few places. You know how it is - you're quite happy outside, giving no thought to the sun, never considering for an instant that you should be lathering yourself from head to foot in coconut scented jizz. Then you go indoors and instantly discover angry red areas that you just know are going to be the same areas you sleep on, sit on or otherwise rely on in daily life. Fuck it. So I've rolled the dice on skin cancer yet again...

This always makes me wonder about naturists. I mean, when I do the sunburn thing the worst that's going to happen is that my neck hurts for a bit or, more likely, my head or feet will go red and then shed about a square foot of skin over the subsequent week. But naturists have to consider the very real possibility that if they miscalculate their exposure they'll burn their genitals. For women I suppose little is at stake here - unless you're lying on your back with your legs apart, doing your best impression of the entrance to the channel tunnel, you're highly unlikely to burn anything important. For blokes, however, who shouldn't even be exposing the tops of their legs unless they're wearing a Speedo (and we all know how queer and "European" they look) the area at risk is substantial. And it includes the penis. Can you imagine having sunburn of the nob? First the redness and pain, then not being able to touch it or sit comfortably, followed by the skin peeling off it and, just for laughs, the long term fear of some malignant melanoma appearing on your shaft.

Of course you could put sunscreen on it but sunscreen has to be re-applied every hour or so, and can you imagine nonchalantly grabbing your scrotum pole and rubbing lotion in it while surrounded by strange women? (If you answered "yes" to this question perhaps I should add "Not while wearing a raincoat and lurking in the bushes at the park".)

There's definitely something very wrong with the whole naturist movement. For a start the whole thing seems to require that you go about your normal activities but just do it with no clothes on, as though this somehow makes things better. Let's face it, the world of women falls neatly into two categories for most men - attractive ones, the sight of whom naked will likely cause you to get the horn and get thrown out of the club, and gruesome ones, the sight of whom naked will NOT enhance the table tennis, poker, sauna or whatever else it is that you're supposed to be doing at the naturist resort. What's the etiquette if you're meeting another nudist couple for dinner? If you see the bloke's wife and get a stiffy is that considered a compliment? What do you say when you meet? "Hi John, how are you? And this must be Susan - you look fabulous tonight." If you don't accompany this with at least some "firming up" she's bound to think you're being insincere isn't she?

Actually there are a number of reasons that naturism is weird. For a start the whole "let's all get naked with our kids" thing is fucked up. But more fundamental than that is this: I like my dick - it's been with me a long time and we've had a lot of fun together. I would hate to be separated from it and I try to look after it, just as it has certainly looked after me. However I'm under no illusions that it's a thing of beauty - penises are ugly fucking things, best kept to yourself. When I go on holiday the last fucking thing I want to see around me is a whole bunch of other blokes' cocks, alright? Jesus, this is a country where people won't sit on a toilet seat without putting paper all over it but they'll sit around in the same chair that old Walter's dribbly spout was leaking over for the last two hours, or where Mary's clunge just left a mark like the ring from a teacup.

So there you have it. Naturists will be outraged at my lack of "openness" but at least I'm not going to be rubbing Aloe into my johnson this evening.


Copyright © 2008 Edward Bison