Before anyone goes ballistic, allow me to explain that this post is most definitely not referring to bath-houses but rather the simple practice of taking a leisurely bath, in your own home or his, with the man who you love, or at least are attracted towards. I can also state here that, for the record, I have never visited a gay bath-house and wouldn’t even begin to know how to write about that experience. By the time that I reached adolescence, gay bath-houses had been outlawed in the Commonwealth of Virginia in response to the HIV/AIDS epidemic.
Wednesday of this week, February 7, is National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day in the USA. It’s the date, conveniently during the USA’s Black History Month observance, to direct people’s attention to the disproportionate impact the HIV/AIDS pandemic has on the African-American community. Americans of African descent constitute 13% of this country’s population yet represent more than 50% of all categories reported in HIV and AIDS related statistics reported to the U. S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). This disparity in infection rates remains a disgrace on the American Public Health system and represents negligence by the both elected officials and leaders.
The month of January, every year, never ceases to amaze me. That’s the one time of the year that my local gym is packed with bodies beyond capacity. People are everywhere they shouldn’t be and the overwhelming majority of them doing things they shouldn’t. I understand that with the start of the new calendar year, my gym membership numbers soar as people try to adhere to their resolutions of weight loss and becoming physically fit. I appreciate their commitment to improve their health but not at my expense!
Here in the USA, every February is designated as Black History Month. This is the time of the year that nationally, we focus on remembering, educating and sharing the accomplishments and achievements of African-Americans and their contributions made to both American history and to American society. One doesn’t have to be a Black American to appreciate the results of Black culture. It is a time for all of us to celebrate the people who overcame innumerable challenges and enriched us all.
January, 2018, is now almost a time completely in the past-tense. The winter holiday season has passed and so has the first month of the now not-so-new year. This month was my first anniversary of my return to blogging here under the title, ReNude Pride. It was a hectic but fun year for me both in my personal life but also as a dedicated blogger. Probably, it was the blogging aspect that made the year seem both hectic and fun simultaneously.
During this month, my second January composing this site, ReNude Pride, my thoughts turned to an observation that a fellow bare practitioner and good friend once shared with me: “When in doubt, get naked. If he objects to it, he’ll walk away from you. If he strongly objects, he’ll run away from you. If he accepts it, he’ll sit with you. If he’s comfortable with it, he’ll get naked with you.” And that is exactly how my good friend and I initially met one another.
Author’s Note: This month, January, 2018, is my first anniversary of blogging here with the title: ReNude Pride. Today’s post is a celebration of this blogging achievement.
As this month rapidly approaches closing, I would be completely an ungracious fool if I allowed this occasion to pass by without publicly thanking the man who enables me to do this, the man that I love and have committed my life to, my spouse, Aaron. I am grateful for not only his support of my efforts here, but his patiently listening as I share my ideas for this site. I love you, my man!