WNBR Portland, Oregon 2010

I rode through the streets of Portland last night, wearing nothing but a pair of “modified” tighty-whities, with an estimated 13,000 of my closest, naked, friends!

(Yes, these are photos of my outfit after I wore it!)

Tighty-Whities (HI)

Modified Tighty-Whities (Front)

Tighty-Whities (BYE)

Modified Tighty-Whities (Back)

And it was AWESOME!

If you ever have the chance to participate in the World Naked Bike Ride (WNBR), do it! There’s nothing quite like riding a bike with a bunch of happy naked people while being cheered by crowds of onlookers lining the streets!

I’ll definitely be back next year!!!

So, photos…

No, I didn’t take my camera, as I knew I wouldn’t have the time to get the shots I wanted. One of my friends did though, and I’ll post some of those as soon as I get copies.

Until then, here are a few photos and a video from others that I found online.


World Naked Bike Ride – Portland, OR from Cooper Richardson on Vimeo.

Still single, just with clothes on and not riding a bike,



I want to be a better person . . . I’m just not

Would dating be easier if I were blind? Sometimes I think so.

I would like to be the person that doesn’t care what the person looks like. I would like to be the guy that looks past the exterior shell and gets to know the person inside. Really, I would, but it’s hard. Really, really, really hard.

At first, on e-harmony, before I came out of the desperately-seeking-love closet and purchased a membership, I couldn’t see the photos of the women I was evaluating. I was looking deeper. I was ignoring the physical manifestation of the person and actually reading their profiles. I was a better person!

But now, that I can see their photos, I find the first thing I do is shuffle through bad picture after bad picture, thinking things like, “nope”, “yeah right”, “she’s hot”, “uh-uh”, “nice tits”, and “oh my god”. I couldn’t believe it! I immediately turned into a pig! A judgmental, no-right-to-be-critical, loser-of-a-womanizing-douche-bag pig! The guy I don’t want to be. The guy I’ve claimed I would never be! The guy that I apparently am.

Why do I care what they look like? It not like I don’t have numerous not-so-pretty aspects of my body. And what if she was the “one”? What if we could have changed the world together? What if the human race died tomorrow and we were all that was left to repopulate the world? Did I just click “Close Match” and doom the human race to extinction because she was a little chubby in the face? What have I done!

And, more importantly, what if she might have actually been interested in having sex with me?

Besides, what right do I have to deny them the chance to be wowed by my awsomeness?

. . . well, that’s it. It’s official. I’m going to hell. I don’t even believe in the place, but I’m pretty sure there’s parking space with my name on it!

Do you think they let you take sunscreen into hell? I don’t want to peel.

Still single,


P.S. it would appear that my non-photogenic nature is not, in fact, a unique characteristic, but actually a pandemic plague of immense and not-so-pretty proportions.