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I went to one, once. It was interesting, in that 85-90% of the people on the beach looked like they remembered the Truman presidency quite well. It was like they were all there going, "You know what? I served in Korea. I went to grad school wearing an 'I Like Ike' button. I been wearing clothes for nigh on seventy years, and now I get to take them off!" I think I saw my lifetime fill of white pubic hair that day.
Still, that whole, "you forget you're naked, you don't even notice other people" thing was so not true for me. There were these two girls who were around my age who were terminally hot, with the cuteness and the slinky hair and the prancing around playfully, and much bobbing of gravity-defying boobies. And I will freely admit that each and every time they came round, the ol' kosher sausage plumped right up to greet them, and I had to make a dive for the water.
I am just as happy sticking to bathing suit beaches.
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Dull sublunary lovers love,
Whose soul is sense, cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
That thing which elemented it.
(From "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" by John Donne)
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