Finally, it's the weekend. All the garbage of work, all these stupid customers, I can just leave them all behind and head down to the Blowhole, the local jazz club, for some relaxation as well as the occasional drink. Now, sure, I should probably be going home and getting some good sleep, then engaging in some modest exercise on the weekend, but hey, poisoning my liver with alcohol is an option too, and it's a lot less work, so let's go with that one. But after I hop onto a barstool and order my usual poison, I notice that there's a somewhat larger stage set up on the other side rather than the usual little corner for the solo artists. "Hey, do you have something going on today?" I ask the bartender.
"Oh, yeah, we're putting on a local talent event tonight. You know, kinda like open mic, just focused specifically on music because we're not here for amateur stand-up. It should be kicking off pretty soon," he explains after serving my drink. Huh, amateur night, eh? Well, while I would prefer the usual offer—really, on a night like this, nothing beats some soft solo sax—I'm willing to give it a try, and it doesn't take long until an emcee steps up on stage and announces the beginning of the local talent night as well as the first performer, which is a beat poet using a boombox for a backing track. Not off to a great start here, and I wonder how this guy passed muster with the ostensible idea of focusing on music, but I guess they can't all be winners. The second one up on stage is a self-proclaimed "progressive funk artist" with nothing but a Casio keyboard, and the less said about his efforts, the better.
But then, the third artist on offer immediately catches my eye. Just from the way this guy carries himself as he walks up on stage, his long hair flowing, I can tell that he's way different to the first two. The way he sits down on the stool on stage, a casual smile on his face, brandishing his acoustic guitar, he just exudes a carefree, relaxed attitude that is such a breath of fresh air. Even those two previous acts had this air about them that they thought much more highly of themselves than they deserved, but this guy seems the complete opposite, like he's just genuinely happy to be there. And when he starts singing... he's good. He's real good. His voice is so warm, so gentle, that it perfectly meshes with the soft tones of his acoustic guitar. I never thought I'd describe another man's voice as "angelic", but here I am, thinking exactly that. And the more I listen, the more I realize: I'm just smitten. I'm staring, and I can't stop. Something about him... I just can't put my finger on it.
In a pause between songs, he scans the audience for a moment, and there, just for a bit, our eyes meet. And there... is that a smile? Am I just reading too much into this? Surely, that has to be the case, there's no way he can tell what I'm thinking just from a cursory glance. Still, I can't help but blush at the fantasy, and turn back to the bar, just a bit embarrassed. So I continue nursing my drink while he continues singing, but after his set ends, I'm suddenly surprised by someone taking a seat at the barstool right next to mine. But surely, it can't be hi—oh God, it is him. He's right there. "Hey man, you like the set?" he asks, smooth as can be.
Caught off guard, I sputter for a bit before getting out a weak "Um, yeah..."
And yet, he doesn't seem to care in the slightest. "Cool. I noticed you looking, and I could, y'know, feel the vibes coming from you. You were really feeling the tunes," he says. "So... you wanna hang out?" he then asks, shocking me even further. This guy, who I've become smitten with completely out of nowhere, is just asking me to hang out? Oh jeez. Should I go along with this? This seems so weird, and yet, so perfect. On the inside, I've been looking for someone to just kind of be together with, someone to just relax with and take the edge of the workweek off. And he seems perfect for this. Do I know him at all? Absolutely not. Do I still want to try? Yes. So, I give him a nod, and he holds out his hand. I shake it, we share the usual introductions, and before I know it, I'm on my way alongside him back to his place.
When we step inside his little house on the outskirts of town, my preconceptions of him are very quickly reinforced. I spot a bong sitting on a side table, as well as some psychedelic decorations that really makes it clear he's a tree-hugger artiste sort of type. But just as I'm done taking in the surroundings, I'm confronted with a very surprising sight: Barnaby, shirtless, his soft, slim chest on full display. "Oh, right, sorry, I forgot to tell you. I dabble in naturism a bit, particularly here, so I don't wear clothes when I'm at home. I hope you're not uncomfortable with that, man... if you are, then don't worry about it, but I gotta tell you, it feels super freeing to just, y'know, go naked. Like Mother Nature intended, man. If you wanna join in, I promise it'll be super comfy," he tells me, and now my mind is firing on all cylinders. Not only can I get to see him naked, but he wants to see me nude too?
"Um, y-yeah... of course! I... I'd love to try it," I reply, and Barnaby smiles. I can tell that actually made him happy, and that, in turn, makes me happy too. In relative silence, the two of us strip down completely, and I'm blushing harder than I've ever blushed before in my life. I've never done anything like this before with another guy, but it feels so... calming, somehow.
With that same warm, welcoming smile, the now totally naked Barnaby leads me over to his sofa, where he slumps down in a casual position, his guitar still on his lap. He idly strums some chords, then motions for me to follow him, and while it takes me a moment to get used to this whole situation, I do join him on the couch. "This is what life's all about, man. Clothes... I get why we got them, but they're just so constraining. I'm so glad you see it the same way. Now, I got some tunes I've been working on, and I wanna try them on you. You know how they got these 'unplugged' concerts, where it's all casual and acoustic? Well, I guess this is gonna be your own private little 'undressed' concert, eh? I've never done this with anybody before, so this is new to me, too, and it's really exciting, man," he says, and I nod, still so overwhelmed by this whole situation.
And so, we sit there, both as naked as the day we were born, with Barnaby as relaxed as can be, gently strumming his guitar as he begins crooning a soft little song. Just for me.