The Reluctant DILF – Al Fresco

Monologist Christopher T. Wood visits a nude beach for your pleasure. Read it, watch it or both.

There are moments in a man’s life when ego trumps reason. When, “I shouldn’t” seamlessly morphs into, “Obviously, one shouldn’t, but given my recent burst of awesome, maybe I should.” At this point in the thought process, some religions, most old men and all moms would counsel “Cease, butthead, that way lie woe.” True. But through every door labeled “woe”, off in a corner, piled on top of things like pain, embarrassment and shame is knowledge. And knowledge answers questions. Questions like, what is love? Or why do we live the lives we do? Or… How many nude people need to be on a nude beach in order for a nude beach to still be a nude beach and not simply a beach upon which you are nude?” Knowledge.

In my last post, I confessed that I had lost weight. Check. Now what? A new and tighter wardrobe? Seems expensive. Also wasteful in the event I return to my practice of eating both for nourishment and to celebrate moments of joy, pain and/or days that end in “y”. Hmm. Society counsels that people should see the new you. But in subtle drips and drabs, over a lifetime wrapped in the latest American Apparel? Seems inefficient. If only I could do one thing on one day that would… Wait a minute. Aren’t there beaches where people can…? I think there are. And didn’t I hear of one right down…? I think I did. And isn’t today supposed to be sunny and…? I think it is.

Now Reason whispered to me, “No one needs to see your creaky old bones al fresco,” but Ego screamed, “Who you callin’ creaky,” and off I went. Grab keys. Drive car to the beach. Park. Exit. Panic. This was it. I walk down that path and thirty or so truly brave souls would be privy to every physical detail I had to offer. I was suddenly struck with the stupidity of my day plans and the genius of the loin cloth. I mean, what if I crossed some secret nude norm and looked too long at the wrong missing tan lines? Would I be driven off in a hail of kicked sand and thrown seashells by nudes in the know? “Walk!” Ego said. Reason was silent, so I walked.

Down the path, around the corner, on the sand and… nothing. Not a gently jiggling buttock in sight. Nothing but sand, water and… victory. I had done it. No one said anything about a witness requirement. Off went the shirt, down went the shorts and voila, goal achieved. Like Adam and Eve, pre-apple, I strutted to the tune of my own bravery. I sprinted along the edge of the water like a dog off the leash. I sang sad Irish ballads with my arms stretched up to the sky and tears streaming down my face. Take that, reason. I had exposed my new found figure to the world. Was it my fault the world didn’t show up? I think not. With that, I face planted in the sand and fell fast asleep.

Moments, maybe hours, later I heard, “Don’t go near him.” Words that rarely imply respect when directed at you. My eyes cracked open to spy (a safe distance away) a motley family of four, with motley clothes and motley beach toys staring my way with facial expressions most of us reserve for spoiled pork. “Where are your clothes?” the dad asked. The rube. So clearly not in the know or the nude. I proudly rose to respond, but was cut short by the roar of a four by four bearing down on me, sirens blazing and skidding to a protective stop between myself and the oh-so-uncool family of four. Now they would see.

“Why are you nude, sir?” the cop asked.

“Because this is a nude beach,” I proclaimed for Spain.

“Why is that?” he returned.

I could do the math. There were six people on the beach. Five of them wore clothes. I wore sand. As my hands covered my nether region, the answer to my original question came rushing at me like pigs to the trough.

How many nude people need to be on a nude beach in order for a nude beach to still be a nude beach and not simply a beach upon which you are nude? More than one. Knowledge.

Christopher T. Wood

Christopher T. Wood has been an actor in Hollywood since the tender young age of 36.  He has appeared in numerous commercials, television shows and films and has been loving every minute of it.  He has been known to spontaneously break out into uncontrollable laughter while sitting at what others might describe as a boring audition.  The prevailing theory as to why this occurs is that he has just remembered he used to be a corporate lawyer on Wall Street for eight years and has now been retired for ten.  He thinks that's very funny.

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