We’re not big go-out-and-get-drunk-on-New-Year’s-Eve people.  Even before we became parents, we were loathe to go out on New Year’s Eve or St. Patrick’s Day, knowing that the crowds of amateur drinkers would kill the fun for people like Jack and I.  When I say amateur drinkers, you know what I mean:  Douchebaggy guys who couldn’t possibly get laid if alcohol didn’t exist.  Shrill, anorexic nineteen-year-olds with fake IDs that are just out to make the scene.  People who are so unused to drinking that they don’t know how their bodies will handle certain drinks.  People who get plastered by ten-thirty, and whose friends then have to be responsible for them for the rest of the night.  People who expect others, especially bartenders and cab drivers, to clean up after them.  Or worse, people who think they are the one person in the world capable of driving drunk.

So we tend to stay away from bars on New Year’s Eve.  We’ll gladly go and get drunk on a random Friday night when the crowds might be heavy, but most people aren’t trying to do one more stupid and reckless thing before the year changes.  Some New Year’s Eves, we end up going to a friend’s house.  Other times we host, as whenever possible we prefer to stay home.  This year we had absolutely nothing planned.  We thought we would put the baby to bed, watch the ball drop, and then have a couple hours of sex provided she stayed asleep.  That sounded great to us, and had that been all that happened, it would have made a wonderful and memorable New Year’s Eve.

Instead, we were invited out by friends of ours, who we will call “P” (the wife), and “N” (the husband).  Eager to spend time with them, but not interested in competing for space at a bar, we suggested that they come to our house instead.  They agreed.  Jack and I had spent the day packing for our impending move, and it took only a short while to tidy up the house, clean the bathrooms, and move all of our boxes into the garage.  Even though we weren’t going out, we asked Jack’s aunt to babysit.  It probably wasn’t necessary, as we found out when we picked up the baby that she’d slept for much of the night, and it stands to reason that she would have slept just as well if she was home with us.  Furthermore, we know P and N well (I’ve been friends with P since kindergarten), and we knew that there wasn’t much chance of the evening turning into a huge four-way orgy that would have sent our daughter into catatonia had she woken up and stumbled onto it.

In the end we snacked and drank some wine while watching a movie with our friends.  Around eleven o’clock we took a dip in the hot tub. P and N hadn’t brought swimsuits, so N borrowed a pair of Jack’s swimming trunks, and P borrowed a sports bra and a pair of spandex workout shorts of mine.  Now, I know what you’re thinking:  Why did we even bother with swimsuits?  Surely Jack and I are so sexy that, once in our presence, people have no choice but to strip off and service us sexually.  While that is a flattering thought, it is unfortunately not the case.

Would we have liked it if something a bit more daring occurred?  Of course we would have.  Would we have had the slightest idea of how to make it happen?  Definitely not.  Jack and I aren’t exactly shy.  We have gotten naked with certain friends before, usually while hot tubbing, and usually when alcohol is involved.  But not with these particular friends.  I don’t know why, exactly.  Before she met her husband, Jack and I spent an evening at P’s house watching softcore porn on premium cable.  Sex is a topic I’ve discussed with her at some length, although she knows nothing about this blog and, given the fact that she is close to my parents and my siblings, it’s probably for the best that she not find out.

So why didn’t we get naked?  The easy answer is because, when we suggested continuing our evening in the hot tub, they said, “Well, we didn’t bring our swimsuits, period.”  They didn’t say, “Well, we didn’t bring our swimsuits, dot dot dot.”  We are pretty good about being able to read between the lines, and can usually tell when someone is open to such a thing and leaving the decision up to us, as opposed to when their feelings are pretty clear.  To us, their discomfort with the idea of social nudity seemed apparent, and this is why we offered them clothes.

But a more complex answer is that suggesting that we all get naked and get in the hot tub might be the sort of thing that could place a major stumbling block in the path of our four-way friendship.  Or it might not.  Even if they didn’t immediately say, “Of course we’ll get naked in the hot tub and push our relationship boundaries with you guys,” there’s no reason to assume that they’ll be so offended by the suggestion that they can never again look us in the eye, or worse, feel the need to shame us publicly for it.  They might laugh it off, or else politely decline.

I am very familiar with the expression, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”  I know that without taking a risk, reward is impossible.  But considering how much I hate wearing clothes, it’s always been difficult for me to propose social nudity to people I know well.  Part of this is due to my body image issues, although I think I’ve gotten better about it in recent years.  It’s a little easier for Jack, who has the advantage of having a reputation amongst some of our friends for constantly thinking about sex anyway.

Part of it is also due to the societal stigma surrounding sex and nudity, at least in the United States.  The overwhelming conservative attitude that places a taboo on sexuality, and the general ignorance that associates nudity with sex, make it very risky to propose getting naked.  What if our suggestion is rebuffed?  What if our friends look at us negatively?  What if our families and our employers find out?  While these are the same fears I brought up earlier, they are very real concerns for us.

I know that we can bring up social nudity with certain of our friends, including my best friend and her husband.  But this is only because they brought it up first.  I don’t know that I would have been bold enough to suggest hot tubbing naked had they not instigated it originally.  Ironically, though, both are very conservative and have given absolutely no indication that they would be comfortable with the clothing-optional stuff going any further than sitting in a hot tub.

Have any of you had to jump through this sort of a hurdle before?  How do you go about breaking the ice?

-Jill