The fourth Thursday of the month of November, annually, is Thanksgiving Day in the U.S. Originally, it was a day to be thankful for a bountiful and successful harvest. Although that remains the rationale for the holiday, in recent years it has become something entirely different and the concept has lost the intended meaning. The religious overtones of the observance have all but disappeared from the national conscious. Given that the day is celebrated nationally and the reality of the diversity of belief systems within this country, that is probably the best.
In my warped and convoluted way of thinking – which I am among the first to admit is very nudecentric (nude-focused) – a mixed couple is nothing more than one partner in the relationship who prefers being bare and the other partner who prefers to be textile (clothed). That’s how I define a mixed couple. It’s not a judgment on the individuals who make up the couple, just a means of defining them – together. It’s how I view them as they relate to Aaron and myself.
Today marks the third Wednesday installment of a post series commemorating October as GLBTQ (gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer) Bare History Month. Once again, I remind readers that the “b” in GLBTQ represents bisexual and not bare. Every Wednesday during October a post featuring vintage (old) photographs of clothes-free men publishes here as atonement for the fact that there isn’t a Bare History Month celebrated nationally.
It’s Friday, September 22, 2017. Yesterday was the last full day of the summer season here in the Northern Hemisphere. Those living in the Southern Hemisphere are now welcoming the arrival of their Springtime and heralding in their season of sand, sun and surf. I offer these words of advice to all of you: ” Peace! Get naked. Enjoy!” Have a safe and wonderful time and, if at all possible, bottle up some sunshine and send it our way! Please!
Often, we see many professional athletes, who are paid enormous and outrageous amounts of money get physical with one another to reward a job-well-done. In both the National Basketball Association (NBA) and in the National Football Association (NFL), countless team-mates give each other a pat or a slap on their buttocks in a congratulatory gesture of goodwill and friendship. Even coaches do the same as a show of support to their players and a way of offering encouragement. No one complains of bodily harm, excessive violence, sexual harassment or indecency.
As a teenager, I was always fascinated and probably borderline obsessed with the exotic men that I met and/or observed around me. As Alex, my identical twin brother, and I had accepted and acknowledged our same gender attraction since our early teen years, I thought nothing out of the ordinary about this fact. I felt it was simply part of my sexual exploration and self-discovery. One culture that I particularly remember having fantasies about were the Polynesians of the South Pacific Ocean. These included the men from Samoa, Tonga, Hawaii, the Marquesas Islands, the Maori (the indigenous peoples of New Zealand), Tahiti, Tuvalu, Kiribati, Tokelau and other islands. The Polynesians are noted for their seafaring skills as well as their intricate body tattoos.
Aaron (my husband) and I were married on this day in 2015. We’ve been together since we met in 2010. To be honest, we’ve lived together as a couple since Autumn of the year that we met. Our wedding wasn’t exactly a spontaneous event as mush as it was merely assumed by both our sets of parents that it would just happen once marriage equality became the “law of the land” here in the USA.