One of the only things that quarantine has had a positive influence on is how much of my life I could spend nude and free. I literally went weeks without ever putting on a stitch. I'm putting in about 2.5 hours a day at my office now. Skeleton Staff only. When I'm there all I can think about is how much I hate these clothes, which are nice clothes. I notice the weight of them. The different textures constantly rubbing my skin. It's really noticeable on my shoulders, thighs and butt when sit down, and my belt wrapping around my waist is an ever present nagging irratant. At some point I realized that these are issues autistic folks often complain about. Then I would look around and start thinking about what other were wearing. Not like about their fashion sense or what brand they liked. Just "that material looks scratchy" kinds of stuff. Eventually it led to me thinking "I remember liking these people more"
.
One of my best friends whom I have barely spoken to all this time came to my office to say hi and was clearly happy to see me, as I was her. We expressed how much had missed our daily chats at lunch and consulting eachother about work stuff. Genuine merth and revelry.
Then she said, "you should come over soon, Ken would love to see you. He needs some guy time. Been locked up with me too long.". She said her husband asks about me all the time. He's a cool guy. We used talk about cars smoke weed all the time. Yet I almost shouted "fuck no!". It's not like the invitation offended me, I just don't want to wear those fucking rags one second longer then I have to.
Then I started thinking about the hypocrisies of the textile world. The easiest one to describe is their relationship to porn. Ask the average person if they like porn and they often will give you a resounding yes. Ask them if they would ever be in one and they might be offended by the question enough to have an argument with you about suggesting such a thing.

The context that this hit me under, was when she suggested that I go to their house. If I did and asked if I could disrobe, they'd throw me out. If they came to my place and I asked them to disrobe, they'd immediately leave. Oddly, it's the very good feelings I have about our friendship that makes me so angry at them.

I'm really tired of this charade, but I can admit it's my problem not theirs.
Am I just tripping and need to readjust?

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