I’m not a prude. Not at all, in fact. I respect people’s sexuality, and have my own dirty, nasty one to deal with. So no, prude isn’t the right word.

I flew back into Germany from the States on Saturday. That morning and afternoon was spent adjusting to the weather, which is somehow hotter than Georgia right now, and relaxing my way into time zone. A beautiful morning at a local cafe with a big-ass beer and a couple of friends, that’s the way to do it.

Sunday morning, however, I found it difficult to relax at all. My roommate and his girlfriend invited me to go the lake with them for a nice little swim. It looked to be a hot one, and I’d been worrying that I wasn’t getting out enough, so I agreed. So, we drive to the lake and get ready for sun and relaxation. My first clue that it wasn’t going to be a good day came pretty early. We were walking into the lake area, on a path curving into the woods. We came around a corner, and there stood, as if from some weird greek legend, three 70+ year old women playing Bocce and cackling madly. Butt naked, I might add.

Great, I think to myself. Just great. My first day back from the US and I’m at a nude beach. Nude beaches sound great in concept. Total freedom for all who want it. Nakedness and fresh air in a non-sexual context. But I’m just not into being naked. In fact, I’m never naked. Never have been.

They wave to us as we walk by, and I wave back, fearing that I may never again in my life acheive an erection. We finally got to the lake, and it was surrounded by naked germans of all ages. It really is amazing that you can get that many naked people in one place without having any attractive ones. They probably are attractive in certain contexts. It’s really all about context.

We searched out a spot the others liked. I didn’t particularly like it, as you could still see naked people frolicking. I stripped to my oversized swim trunks and lay on my towel, staring really really hard at the ground immediately in front of me. I have no idea what my roommate and his girlfriend did; I wasn’t about to get curious about it, either. I took out my sketchpad and started drawing. Staring intently at the paper, and therefore in no way at the many naked men around me, I figured that I and my reputation as a virile, studly, and most of all heterosexual casanova were safe. Then my light was blocked.

Standing over me was some naked 6 year old, screaming ‘Mom! Look how good he can draw!’ Reflexively, I looked up to see this naked family of four, son daughter husband wife, naked as jaybirds and bending over me to see my drawing, which was titled, innocently enough, ‘#8: Never Play Baseball With a Naked Man’. It was my planned response should my roommate return and want to throw the baseball around as we’d discussed earlier.

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable about the whole situation, I put my sandals back on and decided to go for a walk in the woods. There were plenty of paths to explore, and I figured it would get me away from the degenerates for an hour or two. I found a beautiful, secluded nature trail, winding through tall woods around secluded creeks and glens. I found a particularly peaceful clearing and stopped there, lighting a cigarette and breathing the humid, clean air of the forest. Then a naked man came out from behind a tree, said “Mornin’”, and walked off down the trail. I wept.