The People You Never Expected to Meet at a Nudist Resort

You arrive wondering what kind of people go to nudist resorts. Then you meet them and discover the answer is inconveniently simple: everybody.

Written by: The Barefoot Nudist

Before someone visits a nudist resort for the first time, they usually have an idea about the people they're going to meet.

Maybe not a fully formed idea.

But there's a picture.

Nudists.

Whatever that means inside their imagination.

Maybe they're all free-spirited hippies.

Maybe they're eccentric retirees.

Maybe they're extraordinarily confident people who haven't experienced embarrassment since 1974.

Maybe they're fitness fanatics.

Maybe they're rebellious.

Maybe they're all extroverts.

Maybe they're people who grew up in naturist families and have been doing this their entire lives.

Then you arrive.

And the first person you meet is an accountant.

Well.

That wasn't particularly exotic.

Then you meet a nurse.

A contractor.

A veteran.

A teacher.

A business owner.

A truck driver.

A grandmother.

An engineer.

A couple traveling around the country in an RV.

A painfully shy first-timer who is approximately fourteen minutes ahead of you in the process of wondering:

"What have I gotten myself into?"

And slowly, one of the biggest stereotypes about naturism begins falling apart.

There may not actually be a type.

You Meet the Person Who Looks Nothing Like Your Idea of a Nudist

This usually happens quickly.

Someone walks over.

Introduces themselves.

Starts talking.

They're friendly.

Funny.

Completely ordinary.

And you think:

They're a nudist?

Then you remember where you are.

Yes.

Strong evidence suggests they are.

The strange part isn't that they practice naturism.

The strange part is realizing you had unconsciously developed an image of what a naturist was supposed to look or act like.

And this person doesn't fit it.

Neither does the next person.

Or the next.

Eventually the stereotype experiences structural failure.

The Executive

Monday morning, this person may be sitting at the head of a conference table.

They manage people.

Budgets.

Projects.

Clients.

Decisions.

Maybe hundreds of employees know their title.

At the resort?

You meet them floating around the pool.

You have no idea what they do.

They don't introduce themselves with:

"Hi, I'm Robert, Executive Vice President of..."

They're just Robert.

Robert wants to know whether you've tried the restaurant down the road.

Three conversations later, you discover what Robert does professionally.

Your reaction:

"Wait. That's what you do?"

Apparently.

Then Robert gets back on the pool float.

Hierarchy restored.

The Person Who Works With Their Hands

Mechanic.

Electrician.

Carpenter.

Welder.

Plumber.

Contractor.

Technician.

Farmer.

Someone who can fix practically anything.

These people become extraordinarily valuable around RV resorts.

Something stops working.

Someone appears.

They look at it for six seconds.

"Hmm."

That hmm contains more technical knowledge than anything you could find online.

Twenty minutes later the problem is solved.

Nobody knows exactly what happened.

The community has survived.

The Veteran

You may meet someone who spent years in uniform.

Military.

Police.

Fire.

Emergency services.

A life built around structure, responsibility, discipline and service.

Now they're sitting beside a pool wearing considerably less uniform than their former profession required.

They have stories.

Lots of stories.

Some hilarious.

Some serious.

Some they'll tell you.

Some they won't.

You discover quickly that naturist communities contain people whose life experiences are much broader than whatever stereotype you arrived carrying.

The Teacher

Imagine discovering that the person who spent yesterday afternoon enthusiastically debating barbecue sauces spent thirty years teaching high school mathematics.

Of course they did.

Teachers go on vacation too.

This apparently surprises people.

Naturists aren't professional nudists.

Most have jobs.

Careers.

Families.

Responsibilities.

The person beside you might spend Monday morning teaching chemistry.

Today they're trying to determine whether another margarita is academically defensible.

Research continues.

The Nurse

Healthcare workers show up too.

Which shouldn't be surprising.

If anyone understands that human bodies come in every imaginable configuration, it's probably someone who has spent a career caring for them.

Bodies age.

Bodies scar.

Bodies heal.

Bodies change.

Bodies are bodies.

A healthcare professional may have considerably less interest in your perceived imperfections than you imagine.

They've seen humanity.

You're fine.

The Grandparents

This is another stereotype breaker.

People sometimes imagine naturism as youthful rebellion.

Then they arrive and meet couples who've been married forty years.

Grandparents.

Retirees.

People talking about their adult children.

People showing you pictures of grandchildren.

People discussing Medicare.

People complaining about their knees.

People who discovered naturism decades ago.

And people who discovered it after retirement.

That's important.

Not everyone begins this journey young.

Some people spend sixty years believing:

"I could never do that."

Then one day...

They do.

Turns out curiosity doesn't have an expiration date.

The Couple Who Couldn't Be More Ordinary

They have a house.

A mortgage.

Two cars.

Jobs.

Kids.

A dog.

A favorite restaurant.

A lawn that needs mowing.

They argue about directions.

One loads the dishwasher incorrectly according to the other.

They visit family during holidays.

They watch television.

And several weekends each year, they visit a nudist resort.

That's it.

No manifesto.

No dramatic lifestyle declaration.

They simply discovered they enjoy naturism.

Perhaps the most surprising naturist is the one who isn't surprising at all.

The RV Couple

You'll know them.

They've been everywhere.

Ask:

"Have you ever been to...?"

Yes.

They have.

They know the campground.

They know which site you want.

They know which exit to take.

They know where fuel is cheaper.

They know a restaurant forty miles away with the best breakfast you've ever had.

They have opinions about leveling systems, tires, generators, towing equipment and routes through mountain passes.

You asked where they're from.

Forty-five minutes later, you're considering buying a different RV.

This is how it happens.

The Person Who Travels Alone

Not everyone arrives as a couple.

Some people travel solo.

They're comfortable doing things independently.

Maybe they're single.

Widowed.

Divorced.

Or simply enjoy their own company.

They don't need someone beside them to participate in life.

And because naturist communities can be social, someone arriving alone may not remain socially alone for very long.

They sit down.

Someone says hello.

Conversation starts.

By dinner they're sitting with six people.

That's how quickly the resort can rearrange things.

The Introvert

This person surprises everyone.

Because people often assume you must be wildly extroverted to practice social nudity.

Not true.

Some naturists are extremely social.

Others would be delighted if everyone could please stop talking for twenty minutes so they can finish their book.

The introvert isn't uncomfortable being nude.

They're uncomfortable with you asking seventeen questions while they're reading.

Important distinction.

They may spend hours alone beside the pool.

Perfectly happy.

Naturism doesn't require becoming the life of the party.

Sometimes freedom means nobody bothering you while you sit under a tree.

The Extrovert

And then there's this person.

They knew everybody before they finished checking in.

Nobody understands how.

They've been at the resort forty-three minutes.

They're already waving at golf carts.

They've been invited to dinner.

They know who's playing music tonight.

They somehow know somebody's birthday.

If you're new, this person may become extremely useful.

They'll introduce you to half the resort before you've remembered where you left your towel.

Every community has one.

Sometimes several.

The Person With the Incredible Story

You'll meet someone who initially seems completely ordinary.

Then conversation unfolds.

They sailed across an ocean.

Built a company.

Survived something extraordinary.

Lived overseas.

Worked on something famous.

Traveled through fifty countries.

Served somewhere dangerous.

Started over at sixty.

Built their own home.

Raised six children.

Had a career you didn't know existed.

And you think:

How did I end up sitting beside this person?

Because you said hello.

That's one of the gifts of environments where strangers actually talk to one another.

Ordinary-looking people turn out to have extraordinary histories.

The Person Who Has More Money Than You Realized

You spend two days talking.

No clue.

Then something comes up.

You discover they're extremely successful.

Maybe very wealthy.

You had no idea.

That's fascinating.

Because you met them without the usual signals.

No designer outfit.

No expensive shoes.

Maybe no watch.

You evaluated them based on conversation.

Personality.

Humor.

Behavior.

Only later did the socioeconomic information arrive.

By then it was simply another fact.

The Person With Less Money Than You Assumed

The reverse happens too.

You liked them immediately.

They're funny.

Generous.

Interesting.

They know everybody.

They're always helping.

You later discover their life is financially modest.

Doesn't matter.

You already decided you liked them.

That's one of the quiet social experiments naturism creates.

What happens when economic information arrives after personality?

Sometimes friendship happens first.

The Person Who Doesn't Look "Confident"

This one matters.

People often assume naturists must possess incredible body confidence.

Then you meet someone who tells you:

They were terrified their first time.

They hated their body.

They waited years before trying naturism.

They almost turned the car around.

They sat in the parking lot for twenty minutes.

And now?

They're comfortable.

Not because their body became perfect.

Because they stopped requiring perfection.

That person can completely change how a nervous newcomer sees the experience.

The Person With Scars

Surgery.

Accident.

Illness.

Life.

Human bodies record history.

At first, you may notice scars.

Then you meet the person.

Eventually the scar becomes just another detail.

Sometimes they'll tell you the story.

Sometimes they won't.

You learn not to ask.

Their body isn't a public medical chart.

And somewhere in that experience, you may begin becoming less critical of your own imperfections too.

The Person Who Started Last Week

This is one of the funniest.

You assume everyone else knows exactly what they're doing.

Then someone says:

"This is only our second time."

Wait.

You're new too?

Absolutely.

They simply crossed the awkwardness bridge a few days before you.

Suddenly you're comparing first-time stories.

Where did you look?

How long before you felt comfortable?

Did you sit in the car too?

Yes.

Everybody sat in the car.

The parking lot may be the most psychologically intense part of the entire resort.

The Lifelong Naturist

Then you'll meet the opposite.

They grew up around naturism.

To them, none of this was ever particularly unusual.

You're explaining how nervous you were.

They're listening sympathetically.

But somewhere behind their eyes you can tell they're thinking:

People are afraid of this?

Their baseline is different.

Nudity never accumulated the same baggage.

Talking with them can make you realize how much of our discomfort with bodies is learned.

The Person You Completely Disagree With

Eventually you'll meet someone whose worldview differs significantly from yours.

Politics.

Religion.

Culture.

Lifestyle.

Something.

But here's the strange part.

You may not discover that until after you've already spent several hours enjoying their company.

That's inconvenient.

You were supposed to categorize them first.

Instead, you accidentally became friends.

Now you have to deal with the uncomfortable realization that people are more complicated than their opinions.

Terrible development.

The Person You Would Never Have Approached Somewhere Else

This may be the most important person on the list.

Different age.

Different profession.

Different income.

Different background.

Different appearance.

Different everything.

In everyday life, you might have walked past one another without ever speaking.

At the resort, you ended up sitting beside each other.

Someone said hello.

Conversation happened.

An hour disappeared.

Now you're laughing.

That's when the social experiment becomes visible.

How many interesting people do we walk past every day because our lives never create a reason to talk?

And Then There Is You

This may be the biggest surprise.

You spent years thinking:

"I'm not the kind of person who would go to a nudist resort."

Maybe you imagined naturists were fundamentally different from you.

More confident.

More adventurous.

More eccentric.

Less inhibited.

Something.

Then one day you visited.

You were nervous.

You took your clothes off.

Nobody cared.

Someone said hello.

You started talking.

You got comfortable.

Maybe you came back.

Then one afternoon you're sitting beside the pool when someone new arrives.

They're nervous.

You recognize the expression.

You smile.

Say hello.

And suddenly it occurs to you.

You're one of the people at the nudist resort now.

Apparently you were the kind of person who would do this.

You just hadn't met that version of yourself yet.

So What Kind of People Go to Nudist Resorts?

Teachers.

Veterans.

Executives.

Mechanics.

Nurses.

Retirees.

Truck drivers.

Engineers.

Artists.

Business owners.

Campers.

Introverts.

Extroverts.

People with money.

People without much money.

People with scars.

People with insecurities.

People who have practiced naturism for decades.

People trying it for the first time.

People who love crowds.

People who love quiet.

People whose lives resemble yours.

People whose lives couldn't be more different.

In other words:

People.

That's the disappointing answer if you were hoping for something exotic.

And perhaps the most beautiful answer if you weren't.

The People You Never Expected to Meet

The great surprise of a nudist resort isn't how different everyone is from the rest of society.

It's how completely they belong to it.

They came from the same neighborhoods.

The same workplaces.

The same highways.

The same grocery stores.

They have bills.

Careers.

Families.

Problems.

Stories.

Dreams.

Bad knees.

Great recipes.

Opinions about RV tires.

And an astonishing collective concern about tomorrow's weather.

You probably pass naturists all the time without knowing it.

Your coworker.

Neighbor.

Doctor.

Contractor.

Teacher.

Accountant.

The couple parked beside you at the campground.

The person standing ahead of you at the grocery store.

Naturism isn't necessarily written across someone's identity.

Sometimes it's simply one small part of a much larger life.

And maybe that's why the people you meet at a nudist resort can be so surprising.

You arrive expecting to meet nudists.

Then you meet Robert.

Susan.

Mike.

The retired teacher.

The hilarious mechanic.

The couple traveling the country.

The quiet woman reading beside the pool.

The newcomer who almost didn't come.

And eventually you stop seeing a category altogether.

You see people.

Different.

Complicated.

Interesting.

Ordinary.

Extraordinary.

And almost never the people you expected to meet.