Where underwear is outwear

For those of us living in the conservative countries like the United States, an underwear party — if you can find one — may be the closest thing you can get to a naked bar party. (Portland, Oregon, is happy exception.) It gives you a chance to strip down to probably the most minimal amount of clothing you own and rub shoulders, or more, with others in similar states of undress.

But not all parties are created equal. Most venues I'm familiar with make clothing check an optional part of the event. So if people are shy, the bar crowd is indistinguishable from any other night, save for a few daring souls that choose to strip off. Which can be a very disappointing reinforcement of good old American puritanism and bodyphobia.

Fortunately for me, I've also been to a number of underwear parties where a large number of men got into the spirit of things, losing their inhibitions along with their clothes. On those occasions, flirting, dancing, and drinking can become extra fun.

Of course any time you get a large number of fun-loving, half-naked gay men together, there is always the chance the energy of the room goes in an even more playful direction. I recall fondly one of the more memorable of those experiences in this week's story, Blowing Off Steam, which you can read in our True Stories department.

Check it out at your leisure. But before you start reading, one suggestion: Strip down to your undies. I think it will help you get into the spirit of things.