The Naked Girl

My friend Corey meets this woman named Michelle in a
bar.  After a brief chat, the two exchange numbers and email addresses,
then meet for drinks a week later.  Fireworks aren’t going off, though
Corey finds Michelle attractive and worth a second date, which he lets
her know as they part ways at evening’s end.  

A couple days later, Corey gets an email from Michelle; she had a
great time, he’s a fun guy, all that jazz.  Attached to the email is a
photograph of Michelle looking wistfully out her bedroom window… 

…naked. 

According to Corey, the picture was tasteful, more soft core than
Triple-X.  Still, he was baffled by this new development and couldn’t
figure out why he wasn’t jumping at the chance to join Michelle at her
bedroom window.  Though she may not have elicited the response she
sought, Michelle was successful in dominating Corey and my
conversations for the next week, thus becoming ‘The Naked Girl.’ 

“Did you respond to the Naked Girl yet?”  I asked him over drinks. 

“I would if I knew what to say.” 

Observing Corey navigate the realms of premature nudity was an
education in the workings of the male mind.  His first instinct was to
ask the gal if she’d seen that week’s episode of Lost without
making any reference whatsoever to the photo; a glaring example of how
men too often believe completely ignoring the big, naked elephant in
the room is better than meeting it head on.  Corey’s avoidance was an
attempt to be kind.  What a relief to discover evasion isn’t always a
sign a man is a putz.  Made me feel lots better about the times I’ve
sent “I love you” or “we really need to talk” texts and gotten messages
like, “what did you have for lunch?” in return. 

There seemed only two places from which Michelle’s sexy message
could have come: either she was a ravenous sex machine who only wanted
booty, thus sending the photo was simply cutting to the chase. 
Otherwise, she was a psychological mess who, for whatever reason,
thought the nude approach was the best way to endear herself to a
potential mate. 

The whole ordeal had my friend coming up against his own
conscience.  Good Corey thought it wrong to take advantage of a woman
in whom he had minimal romantic interest.  But Bad Corey wondered if
her blatant overture permitted him to “’bleep’ her like the tramp she
is.” 

Really, the poor fella was at a loss.  If she was a nice but messy
lady, he wanted to save her any embarrassment.  If she was hot to trot,
he wouldn’t mind keeping the option open.  But if there was any chance
of love blooming, he didn’t want this act to be the seed.

“Tell her the truth,” I suggested.

“I don’t know what the truth is,” he said.  “All I know is I’m uncomfortable and don’t know what this means.”

“Say that,” I told him. 

Corey learned a lesson that day.  Rather than dodging or joking or
disappearing all together, he expressed his true feelings.  What
happened was a dialogue opened.  Maybe the whole relationship ends
there, but at least they can walk away with their dignity in tact and
without questions remaining unanswered. 

I learned a lesson, too.  We ladies feel entitled to express in full
everything we feel, both love and lust, our anger and overwhelming
need.  But when you see it from a man’s perspective, you realize how
coming on too strong brings nothing but forced obligation and loads of
discomfort. 

So maybe men could be a bit more direct and women could take a step back.  Or at least save the nudie pics for the second date.

**Reprinted from Laura K. Warrell's blog Tart&Soul at www.TartandSoul.com.