When We Had Nothing to Hide

And Why I’m Wondering If It’s Time Again

Once upon a time, back when Jefferson and I owned a kilt shop, we had a ritual.

Every so often, we’d strip down, stretch out on the floor, and hit record. We called them our “nothing to hide” videos. No polish. No pretense. Just two naked men talking about what was real. What was messy. What was funny. We answered questions from customers, rambled about our days, teased each other, laughed when things went sideways.

It was light. It was intimate. And there was something quietly profound about lying naked beside someone you love, speaking honestly into the void. It did something to the bond. It anchored it.

When the business closed, those moments faded with it. Sure, we’ve been naked in the same room since then, but that was different. Accidental. Convenient. Not intentional. Not carved out as time to be seen. We weren’t showing up for each other in quite the same way, and we definitely weren’t making anything together.

Lately, I’ve been wondering what I miss more. The time. The closeness. Or that slightly wicked, exhibitionist thrill of saying, “Here we are. This is us.” Probably all of it.

Nostalgia has a way of sneaking up like that. I catch myself wishing I’d known which recording would be the last, just so I could have lingered a little longer, savored it, pressed pause before moving on.

So here’s the question I keep turning over: If we brought it back, if we stretched out on the floor again with nothing between us and the camera but honesty, what would you want to see? Conversations about love, aging, and sex? Q&A without filters? Goofy check-ins. Serious reflections. Quiet moments. Loud ones.

If there’s nothing to hide, what would you be curious to witness?