Just Say Hello: Making Friends at a Naturist Resort
By Asha of SlavicUncovered
Naturists have a peculiar problem. We will happily take our clothes off in front of complete strangers, and then find ourselves too shy to say good morning to them.
I’ve seen it in saunas more times than I can count. Twenty people are sitting in the heat, none of them wearing a stitch, and nobody is speaking. Everyone is studying the woodwork with great interest. Somewhere in each head, a small voice is running through the options. If I talk to him, will he think I’m flirting? If she talks to me, is she flirting? Perhaps I should just admire this plank.
It’s a shame, because the nudity is the least interesting thing about naturism. What I love most is the people.
You already have something to talk about
Starting a conversation with a stranger is usually awkward because you have nothing in common except the weather. At a naturist beach, resort or sauna night, you have at least one shared thing, and everybody knows it. So the opening lines are easy. Have you been here before? Where are you from? Do you know when the sauna starts? Have you been to any other places like this?
That’s all it takes, and it goes a long way. Someone has been to a resort you’ve never heard of. Someone else knows a beach you’d love. One person has been a naturist for forty years, and the person next to them took their clothes off for the first time this morning. Every so often you end up beside someone who has lived in six countries and has stories to match. You can’t know any of this until you ask.
There’s also something quietly levelling about a naturist space. You can’t judge anyone by their clothes, because there isn’t enough evidence! You don’t know who’s a company director and who cleans offices, who’s a teacher, a chef, a nurse or a retired judge. I’ve talked with people I would never have approached on a normal day, and some of them turned out to be the most interesting people I’ve met. Several of them also gave me excellent recommendations for where to go naked in Europe. That’s research, obviously.
This isn’t a dating club
I want to say something directly to women (or men too) who are thinking about trying naturism and worry about how it will feel.
You do not need to walk into a naturist place fearing people will be flirting with you — or going there with the intent just to flirt with others. Being naked isn’t an invitation, and most people there aren’t thinking about you at all. They’re swimming, reading, eating lunch, chatting with friends, wondering whether they’ve put enough sunscreen on their backs, or hunting for a towel. After the first half hour, the fact that everyone is naked becomes almost boring. Most people are much too busy worrying about themselves to worry about you, and I’m grateful for that.
It’s also worth remembering that talking to someone isn’t flirting. A man can ask where you’re from without wanting anything more than an answer. A woman can chat to a man for an hour and go home to her own life. When the clothes come off, people sometimes get oddly suspicious of ordinary friendliness, as though every smile needs investigating. Sometimes a smile is just a smile.
And yes, sometimes there is flirting
I’m not going to pretend it never happens. Naturists are human beings, and people find each other attractive whether they’re dressed or not. If two adults enjoy a bit of playful flirting and both are comfortable, I don’t see anything shocking in that.
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Personally, I don’t mind a respectful compliment. It doesn’t mean I’m going home with anyone, and it doesn’t even mean I’ll flirt back, but it can be a pleasant little moment. What I do mind is the man who behaves as though nudity means I’m available, open to anything and easy. I would much rather find out that someone is funny and kind and good company. The conversation comes first, and whatever happens after that, happens.
The same works in reverse. If someone flirts and you’re not interested, you can carry on chatting as friends, change the subject, or say politely that it’s not for you. Most decent people take the hint. If you are interested, you’re allowed to smile back. Nobody abolished attraction when the swimsuits came off.
Curiosity is the whole trick
Not long ago I was swimming and sunbathing at a naturist lake and started talking to the people around me. Then I kept talking. There were people from all over the world, and some from my own city whom I’d never met. I wanted to know where they’d travelled, which places they’d recommend, how they’d found naturism, and what they thought of the events they’d been to. They asked me plenty back. Nobody had an agenda. I went home with a list of places to visit, a few good stories, and a handful of people I’d happily meet again.
Naturism is also wonderfully international. At an ordinary swimming pool you might exchange thirty seconds of small talk with the person in the next lane. At a naturist resort you can easily spend an hour with someone from Germany or Britain or the Netherlands, comparing beaches, saunas and food, and admitting that you once lost twenty minutes looking for a towel you were sitting on. Then somebody says, “Wait, you were there too?” and the whole afternoon disappears.
We see the same thing at our events at Emerald Spa. People arrive not knowing each other. They eat together, sit in the sauna, swim, and slowly start talking. Some are naturally chatty and some are quiet, but by the end of the day, strangers are swapping names, travel tips and sometimes phone numbers. Friendships tend to start that way, with no ceremony at all.
Some of the people I’ve met through naturism have become very important to me. I often describe the community as a kind of extended family, which is accurate in the sense that there are always one or two people who rub everyone up the wrong way. (No, that isn’t a massage joke. All right, slightly.) Naturists aren’t perfect because they’ve taken their clothes off. Some are loud, some are shy, some talk far too much, and now and then someone is simply annoying. That’s just being human.
For the shy ones
If you’re new, I know this can feel like a lot. You’re already vulnerable, and the last thing you need is pressure to be socially brilliant as well. You don’t have to be. Smile at someone. Say hello. Ask one small question, and if they answer, ask another. If the conversation grows, wonderful. If it doesn’t, you go back to your book and nothing bad has happened.
If someone starts talking to you, resist the urge to work out why. Just answer. You might have made a friend, or learned about a beach you’ll be talking about for years. Somewhere far down the list of possibilities there might be a bit of chemistry, but that isn’t the point.
Don’t decide things about people before you’ve met them, either. Don’t assume the man is there to flirt, or that the woman sitting alone is unfriendly, or that a couple must be looking for other couples. You can’t know, and you don’t need to.
Just say hello
If you meet someone who seems interesting, say hello. If someone speaks to you, talk back if you feel like it. Ask questions, listen to the answers, and swap recommendations. Be friendly and respectful, don’t assume, and notice whether the other person is enjoying the conversation as much as you are.
And if, somewhere along the way, you find someone who makes you smile a little more than usual, that’s allowed too. It just isn’t why you came.
The nakedness gets you through the door. The people are what make you want to stay.
So, for goodness’ sake, say hello.
- and I warmly welcome you to visit me in krakow, Poland at my naturist spa to try it out.
