Nudity Clause

Nudity Clause


They're real. And they're spectacular.
--Teri Hatcher, SEINFELD, Episode 59


I have a beautiful friend, an actress
who appeared in a few films before she retired
to pursue another career. Her last role
was her biggest (she was third-billed).
And I went to the Hollywood premiere.
The movie was immediately bad, but
I endured and waited for my friend to enter
the story, and when she did, I sat back
and gasped--because she was naked
and naked and naked

And naked. Of course, I'd always been aware
of my friend's extraordinary beauty,
and I'd entertained a fantasy or two
about her, but I'd never pursued her.
I'm married; so is she. Watching my friend,
naked and twenty feet tall, I felt terrible
because I was aroused. Was I betraying
my wife, my friend, and her husband
by so publicly lusting? Of course not!

My soul can't be blamed for my body's reflexes.
And yet, I wanted to skip the after-party
because I didn't want to face my friend.
But I didn't want to disappoint her
just because of my timidity. So I went to
the party and greeted my friend and her
husband. "Sherman," she said. "Thank you
for coming! What did you think of the movie?"
I wanted to say, "Horrible flick, wonderful
breasts,"

But who says a thing like that aloud (except
in a poem)? Instead I said, "The movie was
okay, but you were great." And she was, better
than she'd ever been. She was ethereal and
tough. I wanted to ask her why she hadn't
warned me that she be so damned naked, but
then I realized that her nudity was necessary
and natural for her part in this period film.
Of course, she was naked. Why wouldn't
she be naked?

It would have been anachronistic if she were
clothed. And so mollified and satisfied by my
logic, I hugged my friend and predicted great
things for her (if not for the film) and then
left the party (I hate parties) and went back
to my hotel. Once there, I took off my clothes
and called my wife. "I'm naked and horny,"
I said. My wife laughed and asked,
"What kind of a movie did you just see?"
Honey, it was a farce about colonial discovery.


Sherman Alexie

from is book FACE.