Compliments

I suppose I'm not an ugly man, by no means hideous nor am I being recruited by some exploitative circus from some Balkan country.  I also contend I am not a beautiful nor handsome man.  At no time in my 40 years has any magazine photographer ever stopped me on the streets.

If I had a gun to my head, I'd have to admit I'm in the 50th percentile with half of the world's men better looking and the other half deserving of my sympathy.

So when I'm in a bar and a guy compliments me, either on my appearance, my wit, or my nice-ness (personality?  What portion of my person is that?), I always secretly wince and assume it is a pick-up line.  I'm not attractive, nor funny, nor nice.  Surely I've proven that repeatedly over these many years.  Possibly, I CAN be any of those for short periods, but none are part of my nature.

This last weekend (well, really only Sunday afternoon) I went to a pool party with my new naked friends in Minnesota.  The weather was perfect!  Clear sunshine, warm temperatures both of which moderated as the evening came on.  The property was perfect!  In the boonies, surrounded by Upper Midwest forestry, and at the end of a cul du sac.  I want to live there and the host (who seemed slightly inebriated) suggested I could be his handy-man on the property.  I know I was indeed drunk because I began to seriously consider the opportunity of becoming someone's pool boy.  The afternoon was as near perfect as I can imagine!  Nudists have a stereotypical reputation for being friendly and non-judgemental - gay nudists are such in spades.

A friendly gentleman repeatedly commented on my appearance.  Often it was to counter a self-deprecating remark but just as often it was unsolicited and again I assumed it was an intimacy builder.

Sit around any gay nudist event and listen to the banter and conversations around you and you will hear nearly everyone flirting.  Among gay men it seems to be a way to express affection, just as biting wit and name-calling is used.   A man or a woman telling a woman she's "beautiful tonight" is a compliment (especially if the speaker is a friend or spouse).  A man telling another man he looks "hot" or "cute" is equally complimentary - and often equally hollow.  Among gay nudists it seems almost a sport.  These men seem to revel in providing a compliment that garners a reaction, and will say almost anything to almost anyone.

There were several younger-than-me men there this weekend.  All were youthfully beautiful, all were probably 2% body fat, and all were with their lovers... save one.  All were paid compliments by everyone I heard talking.

One of the members, a regular as far as I can tell and rumored to be a board member (if such a post holds some status), is a notorious flirt.  He is half of a romance that I assume is comfortably aged - that's just a vibe I got - and spends as much of his time smirkingly complimenting everyone within his reach.  I find him humorous and quietly relish his antics.  As a naughty gay man, he enjoys finding the limits of a person's comfort-zone... then presses his dick against it.

Still I hear a hollow echo to these compliments.  As fun as some of them are - such as one which is reversed and causes blushing - all are simply a means to an end.  They are builders of intimacy, sometimes forced intimacy to overcome some form of anxiety.  This is understandable to bar-flies and nudists who have seen the same anxieties so many times for all the same reasons they have simply lost patience.  Sometimes it's better to use a sledgehammer to get through it and save everyone some time than tread lightly with someone's feelings.

All this being said, it still seems to work on me.  I still accept these compliments and internalize them should they be stated often enough.  I am a child of Aldous Huxley, after all.

During my time with my ex, I heard often my positive traits.  Some simple validations of my correct-ness during an debate (or argument... eat your heart out breeders, gays admit they're wrong), some were affectionate displays, and others are more intimate than I need to relate here.  Perhaps a different blog at some point.

These compliments eventually wore on my staunch sense of self and softened my internal criticisms.  My chest isn't THAT similar to a 12-year-old's, my feet aren't freakishly small, and my voice isn't annoyingly nasal.  To his credit - he spent years to accomplish this small alteration of my self-image.  If nothing else, the man is persistent.

As too, my time with these nudists in the Land of 1,000 Lakes.  I'm attempting to convince someone to join me on my adventures.  Each, in turn, has backed out of the opportunity for various reasons, but all have claimed shyness as an excuse for reluctance.  To these men - as I say now - I've explained that after the first 15 minutes or so of anxiety about the fact that I'm without clothes, I honestly have periods where I forget that I'm at a nudist event.  I find myself looking into the face of the person I'm talking to without the urge to slyly glance at my shoes so my eyes pass over their groin.  I forget that my dick isn't engorged just enough to be as big as possible without looking like it's an erection.  I don't hold my hands in front of me to block anyones' view.  Nor am I consciously standing a certain way to accentuate my musculature as best I can.  I act as if I'm sitting at any table with anyone holding any other conversation.

The lack of reaction to my physique... or rather negative reaction, has rekindled a cautious confidence.  Verbal compliments aside, these men who also neglect to acknowledge their own nudity during a conversation compliment me in ways no words can.  I am more than the sum of my parts.

So I reveal a secret here to anyone who reads this public missive:  I may, just maybe, look OK.