The Semi-Naked Truth

by Nicholas Allen — July 31, 2007

Most women don't realize this, but the summertime issue of meeting/dating members of the opposite sex in one's bathing suit can be as thorny an issue for us guys as it is for the girls. Seeing somebody for the first time in their swimwear is certainly more intimate than seeing them in their best "office casual" or evening clothes--and, in the harsh and objective light of a sun-filled day, can even be more intimate than seeing somebody naked for the first time during sex.

For my own part, I tend to be more comfortable having a woman see me in a bathing suit when I'm meeting her for the first time than if we've gone out on a handful of dates without having yet "done the deed." A woman who meets me while I'm wearing a bathing suit knows more or less exactly what she's getting. If I ask her out and she says yes, she's seen enough of my physique in all its natural glory (ahem) that I don't worry about any potential letdowns once things have progressed. (There are, of course, other areas not necessarily revealed by a bathing suit in which a man might end up disappointing a woman but, fortunately for me, that's never been something I've had to worry about).

I can pull together an ensemble with the best of my straight brethren, one that hides most of my flaws and accentuates my positives. I'm far from being clothing obsessed (or one of the execrable "metrosexuals" everybody was writing about a couple of years ago), but I've learned over the years what tends to be flattering and what tends to be the opposite. A bathing suit, however--as women know even better than I do--leaves with you with very little room to hide. A woman who's seen you four or five times looking your very best and then suddenly, upon one or the other of you spontaneously suggesting a beach day, sees you at least half naked may come to the abrupt realization that she's not getting what she bargained for.

At least, these are the things I think about.

This is probably the place where I'm supposed to offer some kind of handy advice, like: "Nothing helps keep you from feeling self-conscious like a few extra days at the gym." But, y'know, come on. That's not realistic. At least not in my case. So, along with the rest of my pale and occasionally flabby brothers in arms, I can only take as much pride as possible in exhibiting myself just as God made me. And hope for a woman charitable enough to do the same.

Nicholas Allen is a writer and columnist based in Manhattan. To read all of his blogs, click here.