The Comfort Zone

Had the groom told us beforehand that the dress code was 'sky clad', the guests, along with the bride and the members of the wedding party, most likely wouldn't have shown up.  To be honest, I didn't know the couple that well;  I'm merely a friend of a friend of a friend. I only went because I'd never been to a Pagan wedding before.  Little did I know at the time that lesbian Universal Life ministers would become a trend, so I totally wasted my time with this one.

Anyway, we thought he made the request in jest, but when he disrobed and threatened to call the police if others didn't follow suit (pun totally intended), we knew he meant business.  The bride cried while her father threatened to punch his new son-in-law in the mouth.  If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times:  hard core Pagans and free-flowing champagne are never a good combination. 

I'm not comfortable with public nudity; I am, however, comfortable with free cake, so once I helped myself to a slice, I hightailed it out of there.

Now you understand why I rarely leave the house. There's always going to be some element of large gatherings that makes me uneasy. Whether it's nudity or just the noise, I can't handle being part of a big group.  I play a good game for a while, though, and can find tools to help me cope (see: free cake), but generally speaking, I'd prefer spending time with a small segment of fully-clothed, like-minded individuals.

My friends and I gladly own our introvert status, and we've finally reached the age in which we're comfortable telling one another, "It's 8:00, and I need to leave."  We, unlike those pesky extroverts, would never insist that you stay for just one more. 

We understand and embrace the comfort zone concept - we're only equipped with what we have and we try to make the best of it.  No amount of goading or badgering shall change us, so don't bother trying.  

I guess the point of today's story, boys and girls, is that we've no right to infringe our own way of life upon one another.  Your insistence upon nudity is someone else's worst nightmare (for more reasons than one.  Have you ever noticed that those who practice nudity are never really the ones you want to see naked?). You've no right to request that everyone get on board with it.  I'm not enforcing my fabulous clothes upon you, Streaking Stanley, so leave me alone.

Live and let live, friends. That's the elegant way.