I choose freedom

   I had never been the type of man that smokes. However, after so much shit happening around and to me, I figured smoking was not really the worst thing in the world. I had received all the cancer pep talks, all the advice to tell me it looked so disgusting and the smell was so repelling. But I didn’t care. I had already been in a hospital for several weeks and had been given a bunch of things to do, as if I had just entered middle school or something. I threw all that crap out to the garbage and decided to leave as freely as I could.

 Then again, freedom was a word people said but rarely understood in these times. Freedom is not what it used to be. Now freedom has limits, it has rules and regulations. Freedom stopped existing a long time ago and gave way to all these people that just want to rule over everything people are able to do with their bodies, including the use of their penis and their brain. Freedom doesn’t mean shit anymore. The good thing is that I don’t give a rat’s behind either. The world around can crumble and I will crumble with it.

 In my small flat, the one I barely have money to pay for, it is me who determines what freedom is. And my version of freedom involves not using clothes around the house, except when cooking and just doing whatever I want, in whichever way I want to do it. I eat whatever I feel like and I invite all the people I want, when I want it. And if I want to be alone for days, I do that too. Books and movies become my refuge and I binge them like crazy for a while until I’m ready to be in the world of the living again.

 I do have sex when some of the people I invite come. They seem a little bit scared sometimes, because my flat is not the kind of mess they are expecting to see. They look at me and think they have me all sorted it, some weird hipster fuck that rarely bathes, smokes weed and smells funny. And then I’m not, because people often prefer to form ideas of others in their heads instead of properly getting bothered to really know someone. Then again, sometimes there’s no time to really get to know each other.

 Sometimes they only come here for a fuck and that’s all we do. And I try to make it good for them, because if I went to a guy’s house, after paying the bus fare and maybe dressing nice and getting something to do before fucking, then I would want the whole experience to be at least enjoyable. Sadly, many times that doesn’t happen, especially when people come thinking one thing and then it becomes this other event in which no one has sex and everyone is miserable because they are dealing with some kind of shit. Those dates are the worst and after those I go back to my books and movies.

 Weird or not, I never mix both those things. I never ask someone to come and then watch a movie. Not only does that seem counter productive to me, its almost invasive and unbearable. I enjoy watching movies and those that I love are like precious gems to me. Sharing them with people that may not be able to see what I see in them, would be problematic, to say the least. And I never talk about books, religions, politics or anything like that before having sex. No idea how many right-wingers I’ve brought in. And I don’t want to know.

 Besides sex, I really like to cook and sometimes I do that with the only friends I have. We’re only three, two guys and one girl and we like to get together sometimes and just chat away, and talk about all those things I can’t and won’t talk about with the people I sometimes bring in. It’s fun, because it makes me change a little bit every now and then. It makes the place look different and feel different, and it’s not all about the food we make. It’s about the trust and all the other feelings that are able to exist in those circumstances.

 Those two are my only friends in the whole planet. There’s no one else. I know the have other friends, their social lives being way more diverse and entertaining than mine. They sometimes mention those other people but I think they know how uncomfortable it is for me to hear about people I don’t know. They only do it when they want to make a point or tell a funny story. And its not because I forbid it in my house or something, it is just that they know what kind of person I am and they have decided to respect that.

 They ask me about the people I bring in my house and always ask questions, trying to get funny stories and anecdotes from me. They know how it is and that weird stuff always happens. I tell them and they usually laugh their asses off and that’s how we know our gathering is going well: by counting how many times we’ve laughed as hard as we can. Of course, we don’t actually count the times but we are very aware that some times things are different, because of some exterior occurrence that has the power to change the ambiance.

 That happened on the first meeting after I got out of the hospital. They had visited me there a couple of times and when we decided to meet up just the three of us, it just seemed odd. For most of the time, it felt like we didn’t even knew who the others were, as if three complete strangers had suddenly appeared in some random living room with glasses of wine and little things to eat. Even the food tasted funny that time. Thankfully, it all ended very early and the next time we actually discussed it all and started having fun like all those other times before. It was a tough situation.

 The third kind of visitors I get in my flat are my mom, my dad and my brother. They often come all at the same time, as if it was an invasion. I have to say that I really like catching up with mom and dad and I try to visit them in their place as often as I can. It gets a little bit tiring because they always want me to do something for them, but I guess that’s one of the things that happen when your only brothers is married and has a full family of his own to take care of. They assume he’s too busy to ever help at all.

 Of course, he kind of is but he could still visit them more often. The reason he comes to my house when they come is because he can then do two visits at the same time and that’s time saved for him. The thing is he brings his wife with him and his two children. Yeah, I think she’s kind of a bitch and I know she thinks something similar about me. And the children are okay but a little bit to overprotected, so they tend to do dumb things and ask the stupidest questions, but I really do not blame them for that. I blame her.

 She’s always going around my house telling them not to touch my things or not to do one thing or the other. I always tell the kids, away from her, that they can do whatever they want as long as they don’t break anything or do any serious damage to my place. But besides that, they can jump on the bed or flood the sink and play with boats or whatever the fuck they want to do. Oh, and she also hates that I curse but, as it is my place and I was in a hospital for so long, even my parents have decided not contradict me on that.

 I love watching her all pissed off while we eat. Not only because my concept of freedom goes much further than hers, but also because she knows she cannot say a word. She’s in my house and they are my nephews, my parents and my brother. In a way, she’s the one that doesn’t belong there. But I would never tell that to my brother who loves the woman like a mad idiot. He knows we don’t get along but has decided to ignore that in order to have a peaceful family life. And I greatly admire him for doing that. Very well done.

 When everyone leaves, I clean and get everything in order. I take off my clothes and lie down in my bed and do what I like, read something or watch a movie. But sometimes I also stay there, looking at the window or at the ceiling, just thinking about how much my life changed after I had the accident.

 We all thought I was going to die. We really did. The doctors still tell me it was nothing short of a miracle that I was able to live through that, to survive. I do consider myself lucky but I wonder about the responsibility that gives me. I’ve decided to be really free. That’s what I think the world wants from me.

Self-made woman

   Sam had always being a very confident person. She wasn’t he most beautiful girl in the world or the most athletic or anything like that. She was just an average girl that never really had a problem with her own body. When she was at school, she saw many people being bullied because of how they looked or how they dressed or things like that. But the bullies never got to her because she simply did not believe anything they said. Maybe it was the way she was raised or maybe she had been born with a very thick skin. The point was no one could take her down.

 As she got older, she decided to try a little bit of everything. She did theatre and always went to a summer camp not far from home. She would also love to help recycle and clean the parks of her city. She earned some money by walking her neighbors’ dogs and she had at least five pen pals from all over the world. Sam lived to be active and to feel she was doing something. She even approached the kids at school that were bullied and tried to help them by giving them more things to do. Sometimes, she succeeded.

 After graduating high school, she entered a proper acting academy where she was always one of the most advanced students in the class. She got the directions of the teacher very fast and knew how to connect with a character in a matter of minutes. She became that person fro a while. It was amazing to see her as all those characters, no matter if they were men or women, young or old or foreigner. She always knew exactly how to do it.

 The school lasted for years year and by the third year her parents announced to her that they had financial problems and that they wouldn’t be able to give her money for transportation and food for her third year and that they had no money for her fourth and last year in the academy. For a moment, she was very worried. It was the first time in her life that Sam didn’t really know what to do right away. She spent a whole night without sleep thinking of solutions.

 However, the solution came to her the next day. Her acting school was part of a larger university, so when she went to class she always walked by a big board where people would pin down what they were looking for. She checked the board to see if there were any jobs she could take part time in order to help her parents pay for her stuff or pay it herself in any case. She read many little papers looking for something good and a blue one got her attention.

 Sam had never cared about what people said about her. She had never really had second thoughts about what she wore; how her body was build or the things she had to do to get somewhere. She was a fighter and very hands on kind of a person. So after class, she went straight to the classroom written in the blue paper. They were looking for men and women that would pose for the art students.

 It was in an area of the university she rarely went to. Outside, there were about three people waiting. When the door opened, a woman asked her name and physical data. She wrote those down in a sheet of paper on a clipboard and then closed the door after one of the people that had been waiting had entered the room. Sam could only see one other person inside with the woman: a middle-aged bald man who probably was the teacher for that class.

 She waited for an hour until the other two people had passed. Apparently the “audition”, or whatever it was, could be very exhaustive. When they finally let her in, they immediately asked for her to remove all clothes and to step up in a square that was about thirty centimeters tall. She did exactly that, feeling a little scared at first. The woman, who was probably an assistant, was doing some kind of sketch on her clipboard. The man just turned around Sam, looking at every single inch of her body.

 Suddenly, he asked Sam to pose in three different ways. He showed her three different paintings and she had to imitate the positions of the models in them. Sam wasn’t very into painting as such but she knew those pictures were rather classical. So she immediately knew there not going to do anything very modern in that class or at least not from the first day.

 After the first ten minutes, she was very comfortable posing as a goddess shooting an arrow at a centaur and then being seductive, half covering herself with a very silky and transparent tissue the teacher provided for her. They were there for more than an hour until the assistant told her she could grab her clothes and dress. They told her they would call her in order to know if she had gotten the job. She asked if she could know how much they paid and the mentioned the number. It was a very good one.

 She got the job and worked there for her whole third year. She had to arrive to some early classes, which was awful because of the cold, but the teacher was always kind enough to bring a portable heater for her not to freeze. Then she would go to her classes and sometimes she would come back late in order to pose for the advanced students.

 Sam didn’t really tell many people about her job. She certainly didn’t tell his parents. They were happy enough seeing their daughter knew how to move around in the world. And only a couple of friends knew. They even went once and told her how odd it was that no one really saw her but instead saw her body as if it was some other person. It was very strange.

 That year, se won a lot of money. With that and a job she got the following summer, she was able to pay her last year of acting school. She kept modeling during that year but she didn’t do as many hours because the audition part of her life had begun and she really had to be looking for all the parts possible. Once she graduated, she began to do so more actively, landing roles in plays and even movies.

 Her breakout role was the one of the heroine of a post-apocalyptic story involving zombies. She signed on for one movie but two more were made. After that, she did more elaborate stuff like a costume drama that happened in Africa and another where she was a woman that had a very awful disease that was deemed incurable for many years. For that one she received the most praise and Sam was even considered for many awards. It was the best time of her life because she got to travel a lot.

 When she turned 28, she got the role of a woman trying to save millions from genocide in a war that people didn’t even talked about. Sam researched the role and actively pursued it for many months until they chose her over many better-known actresses. She was careful about every aspect of the role and was able to do her best performance ever. That year was a whirlwind for her as everyone praised her work and called her a “revelation” and things of the sort.

 She began being nominated for many awards. Every time it happened she would call the director of the film, a woman called Flora, and they would chat for hours about it. However, something happened that would sour their happiness for a while. Someone had gone through Sam’s past and had found the portraits she had posed for and some pictures too, as she modeled for the photography students too. The tabloids had a field day and everyone else started to talk solely about that and not the movie.

 Sam apologized to Flora but the woman told her never to do that. She hadn’t done anything wrong and it was nothing that would affect her forever. She encouraged Sam to be herself and confront the issue as herself and as no one else. And so she did. She released a statement and even made a video that went viral, when she explained how she had always trusted herself and wanted everyone to feel the same way.

 She showed everyone that she was not ashamed but rather proud of being a woman that did not have to hide or feel bad because others wanted her to feel like that. She had made a life by her own hand and she was also proud of that. In her video, she invited every woman to be comfortable in their skin, take nudes pictures or just looking themselves at the mirror and accepting who they were because everyone is one of a kind.

 Many attacked for the way she saw the world, mostly men. But she had decided she would never care about what destructive people thought. She knew most people were not like that, she knew they would all see what she meant, where she was coming from.

 Her chances of having a great career were never harmed after that. She eventually won an Academy Award and went on to pose for magazines naked, in order to prove that they couldn’t take her down or shame her. Sam was there to stay.

Unapologetic

  It wasn’t that he had an urge to be different or something like that. He just like the way the world felt when no clothes were worn. It made him feel alive, as if the pants and shirts he wore for work were just the symbols of a servitude he had never been happy with. He didn’t understood how some people love to wear such clothes but the important thing was that he hated them and, if he had the choice, he would have chosen never to wear them again.

Let’s go back a bit in this story to better understand Nicholas, or Nick, as only his closest friends called him. He didn’t allow anyone he didn’t know to call him Nick; he thought it was just wrong. Two loving parents, which had belonged to the hippie movement back in the sixties and early seventies, raised him like that. He hadn’t been around them at the time, but their choice of living certainly showed some of those things learned in life.

Nowadays they lived in a small farm, taking care of various animals and planting most of their food. They would avoid doctors if they could, and all electronic devices except a cellphone, which made the connection, once every two days, with their son. They would always give him advice on eating healthy and how to be a better human being and Nick took the advice. His friends appreciated his humanity and inherent openness.

Anyway, from his childhood nick had learned to respect all creatures and not to be ashamed of him, both physically and mentally. He was taught the human body is beautiful and that this beauty should always be appreciated and taken care of. And the reinforce this idea, his parents would often take him to the beach to look at people and make him sick that “ugly” rarely meant “hideous”. Most often, it meant, “I don’t like it”; a personal opinion. Respectable but not universal.

Of course, those beaches were nude ones. People would go around without any kind of underwear and, from an early age, he knew that was normal and just played as any other kid on the beach, building castles and bridges and making pits with the salt water. And he enjoyed it thoroughly. For him, his parents were just ideal because they let him do whatever he wanted but just remained him to be responsible. And Nick was smart so it made it a lot easier for them.

Of course, he received a fair share of bullying in school. Because he was so young, he just told everyone about his holidays, like any other little boy or girl did, but when he said he had being in a nudist camp or beach, the kids would laugh at him and the teacher would call his parents, who would explain their views to her, with no success. They would push him and call him names only because he wasn’t ashamed.

That’s when he learned what hypocrisy means. He was a bit older than ten years old when he learned that older men thought often about younger naked women and they were magazines and TV channels showing them, not necessarily being pornographic. And that was ok in general, although not unspoken. But when someone mentioned liking being naked after showering for some minutes, people thought of them was instantly a depraved person and someone to watch out as he or she might become dangerous.

But Nick, now aged thirty-one, knew there was nothing depraved in going to the beach and just not get any tan lines. He was amused that, when a sexual partner asked him how he did to be so evenly tanned and he answered with the truth, such person would get even more aroused. Still, after so many years, it was almost seen as a fetish. For Nick, that wasn’t the case. It was just him being who he was.

If he stayed at home a whole weekend, for example trying to finish up some work or because of the weather, he would always be naked. He showered and took care of himself, so there was nothing really bad about it. If someone visited they would ring before hand to be let into the building so that gave him a couple of minutes to grab some pajama pants and a t-shirt, or something of the sort. And he would be “presentable”.

He did that because he was aware most people were not comfortable with nudity. That’s why, and he said it loudly when drunk, he just loved sex. And it was because he felt free, not only because it felt good or was fun. He just felt more like himself during sex and also when he stayed naked at home alone. He wished it could be like that all the time but, of course, it wasn’t possible.

Nick had learned from his parents, though. When he had time to spare, and only after visiting his parent’s farm, he would go to a nude beach or to a nude camp to fish. He loved fishing too and his father had taught him everything he had learned from his father who was a fisherman, the kind that captures rare crabs or lobsters. The lake was not like the ocean but the teachings were just as effective.

The best about it all was that he had no secrets with his parents. He was absolutely honest with them and they would tell him every problem they would have. He would drive his father to his prostate exams and would laugh with his comments about it afterwards. Same with her mom and her gynecologist appointments, which he loved because of the faces of the other ladies there. Nick, in turn, would tell them about work, love interests and his love for the naked body.

It was obvious they deeply loved each other. Nick’s friends envied this relationship he had with his parents because, as they told him, it wasn’t strange that parents and children became apart with time, as their priorities change and even distances settled in. But most, he knew, had not really being that close with their families when young so, there wasn’t anything to wonder about.

One fun thing about being naked was that some people thought it was fascinating. Some of his best friends knew about it and didn’t mind (as long as he did only in his house) but people he had met randomly or through them would take an interest in it. Nick found that to be kind of awkward but always tried to answer every question as accurately as he could and sometimes even told them to ask a doctor because most questions related to some physical problem, as if you required a special set of physical and mental skills to be naked.

It was Jenna, an older woman who was a teacher of fine arts in a university, who asked him if he could model for her class. At first he said yes but then he recalled the days he had been bullied and pushed around. What if they laughed or stared in an annoying way? He loved being naked but he didn’t like to be the center of attention; one didn’t lead to the other. But he had already said yes so he went and, for once, he did love to be center of attention, even if it was to twenty students trying to draw his body.

Afterwards, he was able to see the pictures the students had painted and he was surprised to see many of them were very talented. He somehow thought students would just try to do something decent but quickly reminded him that artists become artists even before they are aware of it. When he was about the leave, he met another model and talk to him for a while. He was studying architecture and paid his lunches and other expenses with the money he made standing naked in front of the students. He quickly became one new friend.

Nick had known other people that liked nudity before but they would always like it in relation to sex, which he found to be a bit obvious, to easy if you will. Besides, they would vanish fast, after promising to call, to write or to meet again. But with Greg, he had stronger connection: Greg’s mother had been a hippie too and his dad was just the most loving guy one could meet. In his words, his dad loved everyone just because they existed.

So from then on, they would often meet and talk, not necessarily naked. Nick liked to be around someone that understood him and got what he thought of many things. In the holidays they shared a trip to the beach and had a great time. They would even go dancing at night and stay in one of their apartments each time, that was the degree of friendship and trust. Sex? No, it never happened. They were friends. And kept on being friends for a long time after they met, almost all of their lives.

Nick did love being naked but what he liked the most was people. And not any people but the people that made him who he was, who loved him for who he was and who didn’t judged just because for what he liked. Yes, he was a man that loved being naked; he was not ashamed of himself and was unapologetic. But he was also a great friend, a dedicated son, an open mind and one great fisherman.