For GoNaked Magazine
By Mark-Eugene Garcia
The sun is beating down on my back. The sweat is seeping down my forehead. The salty breeze is blowing against my butt. There is a soft sound of the surf slamming the sand. My pen is in my hand. I am naked, laying alone on a nude beach at 11 AM on a Tuesday and life is perfect.
Looking back, it wasn’t a matter of if I would get naked, but when. I was 22 when my best friend dared me to go to the nude beach with him. It was a passing dare, but I wouldn’t let it go. I brought it up every chance I got. Nude beach. Nude Beach! NUDE BEACH!
This is how we found ourselves calling in sick to work, driving for an hour, searching out the rumored beach, paying for parking, and hiking down the park to nakedness. Yes, there were some fears and questions.
Writer/Actor/Storyteller. Theatre Maker. Husband. Bad Hombre. Cat Taunter.