I am a prude. Or, at the very least, I am prude adjacent with a healthy aversion to public nudity—especially my own. I became aware that this squeamishness wasn’t universally shared during my first trip abroad. Fresh out of our teen years, my newly minted husband and I crossed the Atlantic to spend our honeymoon on the Grecian island of Corfu. As our airport taxi wound through the narrow streets of the city, it was hard not to notice the abundance of billboards splashed with topless women. They were a none too subtle reminder of the theme of the coming night. I couldn’t help but feel the pressure of making it the most romantic and memorable experience of our virginal lives.