I’ve honestly only done it a handful of times. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the feeling (I do). It’s not that I have not been presented with the opportunity (I have).
If we’re being fully honest–and what else is this space for outside of that sort of trust–my real concern is that there’s going to be some kind of situation that arises…burglary, fire, tsunami, etc…. that causes me to now be caught in the awkward position of either having to quickly get clothes on (and risk my life) or explain to horrified on-lookers on the streets of Hoboken why I am not wearing clothes.
Neuroticism aside, it is a strikingly freeing feeling, isn’t it? With a partner in the bed or solo, there’s something remarkable about it and I’m not quite sure what that is. Personally, I’m partial to underwear and a t-shirt or a sweatpants and a t-shirt during the winter… but on a cool fall day? My lord, it’s relaxing.
I guess the best analogy I can make is to sleeping in a hammock. They’re impossible to get into and out of, they generally leave marks all over whatever parts of your body aren’t clothed and are hard to get more than a passing nap on… yet somehow, if asked, our first instinctual response would be to assert just how goddamned great sleeping in a hammock is. We don’t know why we love it so much, we just do.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling?: Incorrectly judging the temperature in your room, such that you wake up in a pool of feverish sweat or freezing cold three-to-four hours after going to bed.