One of the "hazards" of living in a small town. 
Another night, another batch of lurking primitives coming to this thread; one might as well give them more material to mull over.
I spent my adolescence in a small town (circa 3,000) in the Sandhills of Nebraska, around the North Loup River, the Middle Loup River, and the South Loup River. The area was isolated; this town was the largest town for more than 200 miles, and the second-largest town had only a few hundred people.
During the summer, three friends and I used to spend late mornings and early afternoons cleaning up the litter left at the local drive-in movie theatre, and it would get pretty hot, usually at the peak of summer temperatures unrelentingly in the three digits.
We'd get done about 2:00 in the afternoon, and immediately head for one of the Loup Rivers to swim.
The summer I was a sophomore in high school, a foreign-exchange student from West Germany joined us, and the first time all of us went swimming, he shucked every stitch and dove into the water.
We were shocked; "skinny-dipping" was something from pioneer days, and modern people wore trunks.
But we soon thereafter lost all inhibitions, and all summers through graduation from high school, never bothered again with swimming-trunks, gym-shorts, or briefs.
Of course, we looked and "compared." The German among us was pretty small, and that he was uncircumcised made him look damned near miniature. So much for the much-vaunted European or "continental" manhood. (For the record, franksolich was, and is, utterly average.)
About twenty years later, I was wandering around the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants. Now remember, I was on my own; on my own dime and my own time and my own whim, criss-crossing a Texas- or France-sized area from one end to another, from top to bottom, west to east, going back to places where I'd been before. I avoided the cities and stuck with the countryside and villages.
Because the all-benevolent socialists for three generations had isolated the people, keeping them in one area rather than allowing them to (voluntarily) move about, I was the first (and to this day in many cases, probably the only) American--or even westerner, for that matter--many of these workers and peasants had ever seen.
There was a great deal of intense curiosity about me.
For example, I was mortified when I learned--because I'm deaf and didn't know the languages, I was rather late in learning--that one of the common sources of wonderment about me was that I never seemed to have to empty the bowels. Given conditions as they were in the paradises, one's excretory habits were observed by all, and apparently it drove the workers and peasants nuts, trying to figure out when and how I did it.
I was very much the Victorian prude over there; I don't recall that in nearly two years, a single worker or peasant saw more skin of franksolich than just my head, the arms from the elbows to the fingertips, and the legs from the knees to the feet.
And because I observed much more in others than what I dare reveal about myself, I found the judgement of my friends and myself twenty years before, confirmed. Compared with the Sandhills of Nebraska, European males have very little about which to boast.
