Imagine the following:

You write a sex column for your school’s student newspaper. On a Friday night, you receive the following text message:

“I’m at a naked party! COME.”

What does the sex columnist do? Does she drop everything to spend a few hours buck naked with classmates, acquaintances, and friends with whom she’s not particularly close (not to mention her ex-partner)? You bet she does.

I invited three different friends to join me in dropping trou last Friday night. All three begged off, blaming it on an excess of self-consciousness and insecurity. How ridiculous. How unfounded.

The impossible standards to which we (myself included) hold our own and others’ bodies are infuriating. I want to vomit when I think about how we feel while looking at ourselves in the mirror. The fact that we seize up at the prospect of going to a naked party makes me want to kick something. Something like Victoria Beckham. Or David Beckham. Or that small, yappy dog belonging to David and Victoria Beckham.

What were my friends so scared of? Exposing themselves to judgment? Letting down their defenses? Looking less than perfect? For the record, there was a lot of less-than-perfect going on at that naked party. In addition to the muscled quads, wasp waists, sexy curves, and tight abs, there were also hairy backs. Paunches. Cellulite. Big nipples. Non-existent butts. Small dicks. Not a single person at that party had the perfect body and transcendent-looking junk. Every person there was an amalgamation of both “good” and “bad” physical features.

I’m now about to say something both stupidly obvious and hiding in plain sight: our physical imperfections don’t affect our ability to provide and receive sexual satisfaction. I’m not saying that physical appearance has no impact on whether or not we feel attracted to someone. What I am saying is that once we are amorously engaged, the discovery of love handles or of boobs that turn out to be much smaller once the padded bra comes off seldom provides enough impetus for us to say, “Mmm. Yeah. On second thought, no thanks.” And even if you do find yourself in bed with someone who has the body of a gazelle or a Grecian god, that doesn’t guarantee you a fulfilling sexual encounter.

I’ve surprised myself by feeling overwhelmingly attracted to people with body types I’d never before considered my type. Once you decide that you like someone, it is the momentum of that feeling that carries you forward. It’s a feeling strong enough to sustain attraction once the clothes come off.

Speaking of partners and nudity, a strange paradox exists there. We can spend hours of naked time with someone without ever actually finding out what they look like naked. This is partially due to the fact that we’re usually less than two inches away from each other’s faces. It is difficult to see much of anything from that distance (or lack thereof).

But for many people, once the clothes come off, the shyness and shame kick in. Not just because someone can now appraise your body, but because now there’s this naked body for you to consider as well. Since the debut of The Old Testament, we’ve been instructed to follow the same rules for nudity that apply to the sun: never look directly at it. So what do we do when presented with a naked person in bed? We close our eyes and grope in the dark.

The intentionally desexualized “safe space” of a naked party presents its own intimidating prospects. But sex magnifies tenfold all the insecurity and anxiety you might feel while attending your garden-variety naked party. Though it’s not the case for everyone, getting naked in the presence of sexual partner can trigger any and all of those feelings. But it doesn’t have to. If going to a naked party taught me anything, this is it: naked is not as scary as you think. At the party, there were naked people milling around no matter where I looked. In fact, I had no choice but to look. I also had to allow myself to be looked at—imperfections and all.

I hope all of you reading this will at least entertain the idea of attending one naked party before leaving Brown. It made me think differently about being naked in the presence of others. It made me realize that shame is needless. Since Friday, I’ve been thinking about the significance of nudity. An English proverb says it best: “Craftiness must have clothes, but the truth loves to go naked.”