No experience is more terrifying than encountering a naked man. I’m not talking about those horrible shriveled testicles that are being exposed in any gym locker room you step into. Those are the accepted consequences for entering such a space which you can mentally steel yourself for. I’m talking about being in neutral territory and being confronted with bare masculinity.
I’m talking about the other day when I was biking on a public path and bore witness to a man toweling off his genitals.
My first thought when it registered what I was pedaling towards was that I might have to fight this man. Obviously, it would make no sense for someone with no protection in their most fragile areas to attack a stranger, but those reflexes that come from fight or flight are usually correct ones. As I ponder the situation in hindsight I believe my reaction was correct. A man who has forsaken clothes, is one who has rejected all societal mores. This is a rabid dog in human form.
Fortunately though I was either too swift for the nudist or not his type as he left me alone as I continued riding leaving only mental and emotional damage from a visual I can not erase from my mind.
Some readers might consider my outrage to be politically incorrect, that I would not feel so scarred if it was a woman I had seen in the buff. Those accusations are void as such instances only occur in Mardi Gras parades and 1980’s late night Cinemax movies.
In everyday life it is always the men who are naked.