I’ve been invited to a party being presented by a naturist organization — dinner, dancing, the works. This will be the first party I’ve ever attended for which I won’t have to worry about what to wear, because the dress code for this event is, basically (and I quote): “bring a towel to sit on.” Indeed, it will be the only party I’ve attended at which you actually remove your clothes when you arrive (unlike 1960s/70s-style love-ins, where clothes may have come off much later in the evening . . . but I digress).
A thought occurred to me, though, as I was driving home from work this evening: if anybody asks me to slow-dance with them, it will probably be more of a traditional waltz — with respectable space between us — than the type of close contact (read: dirty dancing) we used to have with such songs as I Want You (She’s So Heavy), by The Beatles.
Winks . . . such fun . . .