As we sat around the metal table, the patio umbrella shielding us from the Seattle evening rain, we all listened to our friend’s Honeymoon stories. They’d just returned from their tropical vacation and the rest of us were eager to live vicariously through them. “The third day the water taxi took us to what turned out to be a nudist beach,” she said, laughing. Setting up shop on the beach, they sat reading their books among partially and/or not-at-all clothed crowds. Her husband leaned into the middle of the table. “At one point she looked up from her book and started looking around. Then she asked me ‘Wait…are you circumcised?’ “ Even as everyone joined in on the laughter myself and the other girlfriend’s quickly leapt to her defense, pointing out that we aren’t born inherently knowing what the penis looks like with or without foreskin. And unless someone has blatantly shown you one versus the other you might not be positive what you’re looking at. Plus googling that shit is RISKY and something you might …