(Mid 1980s) In our lives, we all suffer embarrassing moments. Some more than others, and to different extremes. But in each, I believe there is something we can learn about ourselves and possibly take the opportunity to grow. I venture to say that what I long thought of as my most embarrassing experience eventually became something for which I am grateful.
I turned eighteen in February, was accepted to the University of Florida, and started to really feel the excitement for everything new on the horizon. But I still had to finish my senior year of high school, as the preacher’s kid, among my friends and classmates who I thought didn’t really know me. My whole life to this point I had been known as sweet little innocent Amy. The girl with the braces that, other than her cheerleading uniform, wore only what her mother chose. But recently I had developed quite a bit – although no one seemed to notice. That March, just a couple of months before graduation, I experienced an event that I believe affected the rest of my life.
I was out of town at an away game for my school’s basketball team. It was the boy’s team, for which I was a cheerleader. We were at the hotel. Our group consisted of the team, the cheerleaders, a few chaperones, some family members, and a few hardcore fans from school. I don’t know if we were all housed on the same floor, but it seemed that way. We had our doors propped open and moved around the floor from room to room for hours with that youthful excitement for an out-of-town adventure. At some point, the chaperones, and probably the entire hotel, had had enough of the antics, and we were forced to retire to our rooms. The girls were housed four to a room.
Earlier in my story, I told of how I came to always sleep in the nude. It made a significant impression on me when I overheard a boy at school tell his friends that he did this. I was not only intrigued by the act itself, but I also just wished to be so bold to tell others of this. But other than my mother discovering, I had told no one.
I did not come on this trip with any determination to sleep naked. I don’t remember if I packed pajamas or considered these logistics at all. I had a crush on one of the basketball players, and this occupied most of my thoughts.
In the room with my three roommates getting ready for bed, I was confronted with a decision for which I had not prepared. As a burgeoning exhibitionist, I never had a problem in those moments that the girls would see me changing, etc., in fact, I enjoyed it. But this situation was different. I had not been invited to a sleepover, or anything since starting to sleep in the nude. I was rarely invited to such events; I think because of my “good girl” reputation from my religious upbringing. They probably thought that I would bring the party down.
To this point it had been a great trip. But now I was saddened by these thoughts as we got ready for bed. When I thought about the possible reaction the others would have if I just got naked and into bed, I imagined their impression of me might change. Whispers may spread through the school such to change everyone’s impression of me in the way I had long hoped. So, I did it. I stripped down completely, right next to the bed, and got in. They all noticed. At first, they just looked at each other. I started to explain that this is just the way I sleep, hoping they would find it as bold as I had. But this was not the case. I did not think this through with enough consideration for the girl with whom I shared the bed. (Four girls to a room, but only two beds.) She first asked what the hell I thought I was doing. I explained as she jumped out of bed and the others got involved. They pulled the covers away and had a discussion of what they should do with me. The answer was terrifying.
I was in the best shape of my life, but probably the least athletic cheerleader of all time. They had no problem dragging me out of bed and into the hallway. They were screaming and laughing as they all ran back into our room and slammed the door shut, leaving me completely naked in the hotel hallway. Other doors began to open as people poured out into the hallway to investigate the commotion.
Now, even at this age, my exhibitionist propensities were intense. Opportunities were regularly sought, even if less frequently carried out. But there is a pattern to these experiences. It starts with an idea that builds to a fantasy. Then a period of anticipation filled with mixed feelings of fear, arousal, daring, pride, shame, confidence, desire, stimulation, titillation, and wonder… to name just a few. The build up to one of these events is as much, if not more, important than the act itself. It is a totally different experience when literally thrust into the situation. I was mortified!
First my pleas to be let in, where a shouted whisper accompanied by light but frantic slapping on the door. I huddled up close to try to hide from view. But more and more people came out to investigate. Some started calling to me or for their friends. I began to plead and bang louder. I felt naked in front of the world, and I wanted to run. Our door was in front of the elevator, but this was no good, so I decided on the stairwell. As I turned, I could see the hallway was filling up and the stairway was far. So, I dove back into the little recess of our doorway and pleaded more. I heard someone call for a blanket at the same time I heard the elevator arrive at our floor. I thought it best to run the gauntlet to the stairwell when our door opened, and my roommates pulled me in.
The girls landed in big trouble. I did not complain or pursue any punishment, but that was the last away game for all the cheerleaders. For me, the fallout was complicated. It began that night, after I finally got to bed and lay contemplating how I would face everyone in the morning. My school was very small. Not a private school, but run as such. My graduating class was only thirty-one people. So, those that saw me completely naked in the hallway represented a significant percentage of my school, and included my crush.
Like most people, I had been caught doing embarrassing things – aside from my intentional activities. I found that if you try to hide, lie, cover up, or otherwise downplay what occurred, it only makes you look worse. People are more likely to think less of you. And usually, the act itself is something probably like what most people do in private anyway, so they’ll understand. For example, when caught masturbating, instead of pretending that is not what happened, or awkwardly avoiding the topic, just own it. Just go out and say, “You sure walked in at the wrong time. I was really going at it!” Joke with them. “I didn’t even get to finish!”
So, I owned it. I played it proud. I acted like they were lucky to catch the show. I did have a nice body at the time, and up till then, I don’t think anyone knew. I had been the preacher’s daughter in braces and thick sweaters. But my braces had come off recently, and now they saw me without the sweater, to say the least. I started to believe this would be the turning point for me. I would finally gain distance from that “good girl”.
I did get more attention from the boys, but truth is, little changed. And for those that did look at me in a new way, I don’t think it was so much what happened in the hallway. I think it was the confidence with which I emerged from the incident. I took this lesson with me and had many new experiences. And looking back, I am no longer embarrassed… it just turns me on.
Not long after this, I was set to leave for college. I purposely chose to go far from home, and to a university that none of my classmates would be attending. With this, I was planning to build a whole new persona.
