Read Naked at Lunch for Free Online

tanning mecca, but I was surprised at how many there were. There are at least a half dozen “clothing-optional” resorts in Palm Springs, but only two that I found that don’t cater exclusively to gay men. I briefly considered going to one of the gay resorts but, I’ll be honest, I am not a gay man, I am shockingly heteronormative.
    On its website the Terra Cotta Inn proudly acclaims itself as Palm Springs’ “most popular topless and nude sunbathing resort” and cites a Huffington Post article proclaiming that the inn is ranked number one of the “Top 11 Nudist Resorts around the World to Visit.” It also boasts that it is a great place for your first nudist experience. As the brochure says, “Not a nudist or naturist? Never vacationed at nude beaches before? No problem!”
    But when I called to make a reservation there was a problem. I was informed that it was a “couples only” resort. Or as the woman who answered the phone said, “We have a lot of first-timers and we like to reassure the ladies that the men here are all married and with their wives.”
    As if married men weren’t just as capable of gawking and leering at naked women as single men.
    “I’m married,” I assured her.
    “You’re more than welcome to come with your wife. We’d be happy to have you.” She sounded unnaturally chirpy when she said this.
    “But my wife doesn’t want to come.”
    Which was true. She had zero interest in being naked around other naked people. When I told her the Terra Cotta Inn wasn’t going to make a reservation unless she came along, she shook her head and said, “No fucking way.”
    It’s not because she doesn’t look good naked—I’m biased, but I think she looks fantastic—or that she suffers from any anxiety or hidden fears. She definitely doesn’t have gymnophobia. She just doesn’t want to try nonsexual social nudism. At least not at a resort in Palm Springs. In fact, she finds it fairly laughable that I’m going to run around naked with other naked people. At least she laughs about it.
    A lot.
    I reminded her that this was all part of the process. You can’t study a culture from a distance, you’ve got to immerse yourself to gain any true understanding. ***** Like Dian Fossey might’ve said, if I’m going to study gorillas, I’ve got to go out into the mist.
    I tried again with the reservationist at the Terra Cotta Inn. “It’ll be my first time and you guys are famous for first-timers.”
    I heard a sigh on the other end of the phone.
    “Like I said, we’re a couples resort.” She said this with that resigned there’s-nothing-I-can-do-about-it voice and then said good-bye. I found her attitude especially annoying because on the resort’s website it says, “The Terra Cotta Inn is the best not because we are exclusive and snobby (we jokingly recommend those people to go elsewhere). Quite the contrary, we’re the best because we have such a friendly atmosphere and the guests have so much fun. If you naturally have a smile, you will love our nudist resort.”
    I naturally have a smile, I’m smiling right now, but I guess I’ll never grin and bare it at the Terra Cotta Inn.
    While the Terra Cotta Inn might be biased against single men seeking a clothing-free experience, the nearby Desert Sun Resort is not in the discrimination business. It welcomes single men and women, but with the excellent caveat: “Behavior requiring an apology is not tolerated.”
    I packed up a variety of sunscreening and sunblocking products—creams and sprays and gels and sticks of anti-ultraviolet technology—and threw them in my trusty Subaru Forester along with a hat and some towels. Normally I’m someone who travels with a swimsuit; even if I’m going to Moscow in February I’ll pack it because you just never know, you might get invited to jump into a natural hot spring or swim in a hotel pool, so it felt slightly unnerving, like I was courting disaster, to leave my swim trunks at home.
    I kissed