Picture it, it's a Tuesday in late September 2007... after singing a song at karaoke, I walked behind the stage curtain to talk with the KJ. This guy came up to the KJ booth and right in front of the KJ says, "I must have your number." (to me, even!)
Unfortunately, a discussion about a record deal was not to follow. Fortunately, for a couple of weeks, I had the opportunity to date a decent looking, over 6 foot tall, employed, nice, interesting (both of the last words, I mean in the most positive way) 20-something year old without a cat. He even joined me at karaoke one night where my coworkers were socializing. He completely passed the coworker/friend test, everyone was enamored with him, including me. It was October, and after 3 or 4 weeks, being the planner that I am, was already ecstatic that I might have my first REAL New Year's Eve date and requisite kiss in a couple months, perhaps even my first boyfriend/relationship. We even had a day spent in bed together, which involved a short car trip to the store for...supplies.
In late October, I was going to head on a trip to visit extended family in Arizona and he requested that I have dinner with him the night before I was to leave. Although I came to the realization that I require a significant other to slightly (not too much or he's just crazy) adore me. And, with that adoration, I accepted the consequences, namely, not being able to go a week without seeing me and desperately needing me in reach before my departure. Bar acquaintances, coworkers and friends would comment on how he would be mesmerized when I sang on the stage. And whether or not he was truly entranced by the music and/or in lust for me from his audience seat or whether it was an act and he was very good at playing my self esteem, I cannot say that it mattered at the time because it felt wonderful. It felt good to be around him, although it was a bit uncomfortable when he expected public displays of affection (which I am not good at, but which I was becoming very willing to practice).
Anyway, that day before my trip, I had to drive into the city, sit through torturous traffic (at least torturous for someone who frequents public transportation on weekdays for work commuting), and finally arrived at his apartment complex. As I walk up to the entrance of the building, I notice a number of police squad cars. In the foyer, My date was talking with the police officers. Apparently, before I arrived, a child reported a man in the elevator exposing himself and had identified my date as the culprit. I sat in the foyer with my date. I was completely confident that the matter would resolve itself and we would be prancing victoriously off to dinner and drinks within moments. I took his keys, went to his apartment, and got some bottled water for him, being the ever-supportive and trusting date. In my head, I kept saying, "This will be over soon."
The police officers asked me to leave them alone while they questioned him and I took his keys and sat in his apartment. I was tired from the commuting early in the morning and the traffic in the evening and quickly took a nap, assuming that they would come upstairs or call and let me know if anything changed. An hour later (and two hours after I arrived for the date), I woke up, went downstairs to the apartment building entrance and it was empty. He had been taken to jail. I had no idea what date etiquette needed to be followed at this point. I drove home and called the sheriff's office to figure out what was happening and what, if anything, I could do (visit, call his lawyer, bake a cake with a file in it, etc). The sheriff's office said I could not do anything until he was brought in front of the magistrate to decide bail (not that I was really going to bail out a guy I had just started dating, but, really, this guy could make you feel good enough [I don't mean that sexually] to think about bailing him out).
While in Arizona, I recieved a phone call (while at the pool- see picture) from him explaining that he did not do it and explaining the situation and that his lawyer said the case would have credibility issues. I hate to confess that at this point I had already
decided that: 1) I could not continue dating a man in a court case with indecent exposure to a minor. 2) Even if he was acquitted because of lack of evidence, I could not date him. 3) If the police could find some other man who had been exposing himself to minors in the vicinity and he was identified as the true criminal, my date would be innocent and vindicated and I would be happy to date him again and could chalk the situation as a dramaful piece of relationship history. Not that I was pessimistic, but as unlikely as #3 was, I had already discontinued plans for a New Year's Eve kiss (which I realize, when I eventually get one, will inevitably be disappointing because I keep building this up).
I should step back and discuss my date a little further. While at the bar one night weeks before the police incident, a straight male bar acquaintance mentioned to me that my date had flashed him in the bathroom at the urinals. Whether it was intentional or not, I did not care at the time. I accepted the fact that my date had an above average sized penis with a prince albert piercing. Someone with a penis that large (stop drooling) and accessorized is bound to be a bit of an exhibitionist in the gay bar's bathroom at the urinal or in the online camming world. I decided to accept it as a fact, deal with it, and trust that his large penis and accoutrement would be going home with me and not someone else. Oddly enough, I am not a size queen. I prefer average. (... well, I do like big balls figuratively and physically). I can do a lot with average. I mean, the big ones are pretty to look at and I love watching porn with Ben Andrews and Chad Hunt, but, it just makes for a good show (again, refer back to my acceptance of large penises and exhibitionism). Nevertheless, I have this exhibitionist idea in the back of my mind. And what's worse, his career involves working with children. So, while the words, "He's so good with children, he couldn't have indecently exposed himself to a child," come out of my mouth, at the back of my throat, I'm gulping in that hesitation-filled "what if?"
When I got back from my short trip to Arizona, we saw each other one more time for a pre-incident planned community theatre "date" (I figured it would be impolite to cancel, and he was innocent until proven guilty). We said goodbye after that show, and I heard he eventually moved back to his home state waiting for trial.
A month later...
For my organized gay social group in the suburbs, I organized an event at the theatre to see the musical Avenue Q in December. Unlike camping, bar nights, or other events, where it is mostly the same core group of people, for my planned event, there were quite a few members whom I had not met. They sent me their checks in the mail and I saved or sent their tickets for the show. In December, during the matinee intermission, one of the attendees whom I had not previously met pulls me aside and confessed, "I saw your name come up on my computer a while back and it had nothing to do with Avenue Q or the social group." I come to find out that someone who he thought was his boyfriend was staying at his place and typing a report for the police detailing the happenings of the aforementioned night of indecent exposure. It was easy to figure out that my date was his "boyfriend," and that because the child accusing our so-called "man" lived in the apartment building, the accused could not return within so many feet. Of course, one would immediately ask for support from friends (or boyfriends). At least our "man" had the good sense not to ask me. Soon after reading the police report typed on his computer by his boyfriend, our "man" moved back home (as I said before), especially since this guy at the musical lived across from an elementary school (oy).
In the spring of 2008, I recieved a text saying that he was acquitted from the charges. Hooray for him! But, selfish as I am, what good was that to me? They say "Some things are too good to be true." This story may be really good, entertaining and enlightening even. Unfortunately, it's not so good that it isn't true.
So, aside from the Edinburgh Dungeon, the museums, galleries, grand homes, and other touristy attractions I visited. I also had the opportunity to sing karaoke.
It almost became a game to take pictures of every pub urinal trough I encountered. The picture on the far left shows the longest urinal trough at a gay bar called CC Bloom's in Edinburgh. The vertical picture is from a pub in Glasgow on Princes Street. The picture with blue tiles (above) is the urinal trough from the National Portrait Gallery of Scotland in Edinburgh. 
