The Naked Truth
Being naked is a Glastonbury tradition and an easy and natural choice for any deodorant-free Glastafarian without clean clothes. It’s ideal both for strolling around the muddy Pilton Pop Festival or just shopping for crystals around town. It’s also a very definite sign that someone is completely at ease with their body, having completely stripped away the patriarchal construct that nakedness always has to be in some way connected to sex.
And, once free of the confines of clothes and sexual expectations, the New Ager gets to explore a wild world of sweat lodges, plunge pools and hot tubs, all spread out beneath the dark, Somerset skies like a sensual bacchanalia. It’s a wonderful way to while away a few hours and get properly clean at the same time, especially after a muddy festival.
But women beware. While the breaking down of the patriarchal construct that nakedness is always connected to sex can be wonderful and liberating, there’ll often be some Glastonbury guy looking to have it put back again.
Locally, some old-style heterosexual males have realised that local women can sometimes be briefly fooled into sex if they’re carefully fed the right new age and stock feminist lines from a hippy-looking guy. Time is spent perfecting a yoga six pack, tan and long hair, along with a sensitive but strong vibe of someone who might meditate and write bad poetry.
We’ll chose one at random. He’s called himself Earth. It’s a nice extra touch. His real name is Julian.
It’s late on Friday night. The pub has closed and Earth has manoeuvred himself into being invited to an open air hot tub.
As he slips into the hot water, he carefully and surreptitiously checks for women. He’s in luck. Two mead-filled and extremely naked Glastonbury women are relaxing and talking quietly to each other beneath the moonlight and solar-powered fairy lights. He whispers a silent word of thanks to the him from six months ago who started the ball rolling and picks one at random.
‘Hi. I’m Earth.’
‘Oh wow, what a meaningful name. I really resonate with that. My name is Bliss.’
Bingo. First try.
By the time she finds out the truth, it may be too late.
But an occasional weekend hot tub may not keep the desire glands of Earth and his ilk sated, so other techniques often have to be employed. One tried and tested favourite is to sign up to any of the many week-long tantra courses taking place locally. Here, it’s easy for blokes to explore and enjoy naked, tantric, non-sexual hugging with the opposite sex, often for hours on end, until it just becomes too hard to ignore the beautiful and sacred attraction between the male and female aspects of the Goddess and the hugging is finally consummated.*
*For those neo-masculinists with little interest in playing a longer game, a simple offer of a naked massage works nearly just as well.