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In 2016, the same year we almost sank the boat we lived on (while sandwiched between the Seattle Yacht Club and UduB – so fucking embarrassing), I finally said yes to Jeremy, and we got married in a short but sweet civil ceremony and told no one.

Then we went off to Palm Springs and paid a lot of money to have a pool to ourselves, so we could run around naked. (We weren’t nudists then, just, well, freaks for each other shall we say.) Anyhoosers, these are the photos that came out of it. I mean, of course, we threw ourselves a photoshoot – these were our wedding photos (well, I guess technically honeymoon photos but whatever.) 

I now realize that this is where it really started. Not only did I want to run around naked the whole time, but I also had waaaay too many friends tell me how ‘brave’ I was for doing naked or half-naked photos. I didn’t get it – why wouldn’t you if given a chance – skinny dipping sounds fun, right?

But what I get now that I didn’t get then is that I felt safe doing it.

That was the difference. I was alone with just a partner I trusted. No leering eyes. No online trolls to talk shit about my jello ass. Just me and my dude happily frolicking naked in a pool all to ourselves.

Welcome to Nude BnB.

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