The saying “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” means that one should conform to the standards of his or her community.  So, for example, if everyone in your world dresses modestly, then you’ll be expected to, and want to, do the same.  But what if the community’s norm is the opposite of what you’re used to?  What if modesty is not required, should one forsake it? 

I was part of a group of college students who had to deal with just that question.  Our very successful college volley ball team was invited to an international tournament in Denmark.  Our team had been made co-ed two years prior – a statement of gender equality, and maybe also influenced by the fact that our liberal arts college in Maine didn’t want to finance two teams.  We competed against the few other co-ed teams, but also against even all-male teams.  (We girls loved winning, even if it jeopardized some fragile male egos. )

Now, the Danes are a lovely, welcoming people.  But they view nudity differently than we do.  Nude presence at beaches and in spas is the norm.  There are unisex showers at the beaches, where people unashamedly wash off all that sand – from all their body crevices.  And women sunbathing topless in public parks is unremarkable.  Not that the Danes run the streets naked – just that they don’t panic if some flesh is exposed. 

Our introduction to this came after our first practice session against a local team, in a town outside of Copenhagen.  At home, after a game, the male members of our team went into their locker room and we went into ours.  But this foreign site had two locker rooms  – one for the home team, the other for the visitors. 

Usually, teams are of one sex, but obviously that was not us.  The opposing Danish coach didn’t recognize a problem, and he and his team marched into their locker room, leaving us, sweaty and needing showers, to ours.

 We girls huddled on one side of the locker room, the men on the other.  We whispered among ourselves about what we should do.  Should we ask the men to wait outside while we showered?  That was our plan, until we looked over and saw that the men had already made their decision.  They were stripping off their clothes.  When they got down to jock straps, they lowered them without much fanfare.  Brad, one of the hunks, came over to our side with a towel over his shoulder, completely naked.  His penis hung down over a mass of pubic hair and testicles.

“Girls, we’re not in Kansas anymore.  We’re going to shower.  You do what you want.”

And he walked to the showers, followed by a troop of muscular, naked men. 

We had a decision to make. 

“I could never be naked in front of a group of guys!” exclaimed Amy.  “Maybe we shouldn’t shower.”

“Well,” said Meg.  “I’m gross.  I’m not going to put on my clothes over this sweat.  If the guys have the balls to shower in front of us, then I’m okay with it.”  And she pulled off her jersey, and unhooked her sports bra.  Her ample breasts tumbled out of the bra. 

Sarah chimed in.  “It’s not every day you get to see a gaggle of naked men.  And we don’t have hanging body parts like they do.  If they’re ok, so am I.  Besides, I always wondered what they looked like naked.”  And she also pulled her jersey over her head.  She reached down and unhooked her shorts.  The shorts and her panties soon were on the floor. 

The remaining four of us women watched Meg and Sarah walk to the showers.  They found empty showerheads among the men.  Without much discussion, the men and women washed their bodies.

“I never thought I could do this,” I said, “but this will be an experience I’ll tell my grandchildren about.”  And with that, I stripped off my clothes. 

“Fuck it,” said Catherine.  And she too stripped.  She walked into the shower, sashaying that bare, perfect ass of hers.  Another girl followed.

Amy was the only one still clothed.  Peer pressure is a powerful thing.  It would be awkward to be nude when everyone is clothed.  But the reverse is true.  When everyone else is naked, keeping your clothes on makes you stand out.

She stared at all of us in the showers, soap and shampoo running down naked bodies.  No one was ogling anyone (although we all looked.)  No guy had an erection.  It was just a group of human beings washing themselves.  Amy pulled her jersey off.  Taking deep breaths, she unhooked her bra.  With eyes closed, she slid her shorts and underwear off.  Then she walked to the shower to join us.

It was exciting, it was sexy, and it was fun to see the naked bodies of so many of the opposite sex.  Water cascading off everyone’s bodies made the skin shine.  People bent over washing their legs, their butts, washing their genitals.  And after a few minutes, it seemed completely normal. 

Afterwards, we agreed that that this was how it would be during the tournament.  We dressed and undressed in the same locker room.  Showers were communal and shyness was put to the side.  We were one team, one group of human beings. 

The common experience of exposing our bodies make us a closer team.  When Amy pulled a leg muscle during a game, Brad, who was studying to be a physical therapist, offered to treat the injured muscle.  Amy lay on a training table, bare chested but with a small modesty towel covering her womanhood.  Brad kneaded the muscles of the leg.  When he offered to make it a full massage, there was no objection.  She lay back, the towel disappeared, and the muscles of her thighs and hips, her shoulders and her chest, were lovingly caressed with oil.  There wasn’t much privacy in that locker room, and we all observed what was happening.  Amy’s arousal was evident from the gentle murmurs she made.  Brad’s arousal was evident in another way. 

There was a large hot tub in the sports venue of our first game, and afterwards, we all marched our naked bodies into it.  There were a few locals already in there, but they were no match for the toned and fit bodies of us athletes.  Now, I’m not sure how the Danes avoid it, but the sexual tension among us Yankees to this new experience of co-ed nudity was a pressure cooker.  Pressure cookers need a release, or they explode. 

After the locals left the hot tub, it happened.  Amy made a casual comment on how shriveled Brad’s penis looked.  “I’m sure it’s capable of so much more,” and she reached out and grabbed hold of it.  That was all it took, and the organ rose to fill her hand.  The rest of us exchanged looks, and made a decision.  Each girl grabbed a nearby penis.  Each guy had a breast in his hand.  With our hands or mouths, we gave our partner the satisfaction he or she craved.  There was no hesitation in this mass display.  Just human beings, not ashamed of their bodies or its needs.  A hot tub or pool after a game became part of our after-game ritual.  We had to be careful not to shock the locals – while nudity is accepted, sex is discreet.  So we were discreet. 

When we returned to the U.S., I’m sad to say that things went back to normal.  We men and women returned to our own locker room.  The casual nudity and sex of that special time and place could not survive American cultural norms.  But we still have the memory of the beautiful bodies we were witness to, and the freedom to enjoy each other without shame.