In my life, I’ve had a couple of “lightning strikes”, things that I just can’t seem to get over, no matter how hard I try. In both stories, I wasn’t dressed at the time they happened.
My first was when I was about 15 or 16 years old. I went to a major drugstore chain (think of the thing that holds up the ceiling, and then a color), and I walked in to the pantyhose section. I quickly picked out a pair and walked up to the register. The cashier started ringing them up, but an older lady (shall I say battle axe) walked up and stopped the sale. She took my picture, and then banned me from every store in the chain, for life (this happened around 1983). I’ve since been back, obviously, and I don’t even think that the woman is still alive (she had to be in her 70’s back then). That said, I was never able to buy my own stuff again from a regular store, and I even feel guilt buying stuff at TG boutiques. I have a female friend who shops for me sometimes.
My second major “lightning strike”? Like others on this board, I had my own “Police Stop” disaster, where I was violated and outed to my bigoted boss. It ended up costing me my job. I wasn't fired for this, I was just "let go" after 20 years because my boss felt like firing me. I was re-hired a week later, at a much lower pay rate however, and I was desperate for money. Now I just work for myself.
Here's what happened. I was coming back to the Midwest from my annual California trip. I went there to dress without fear, as both my boss and my father were both very, shall we say, not very concerned with my privacy. My dad would come over to my apartment in the middle of the night (driving in from another state), and let himself in (picking the locks if need be). Meanwhile, my boss would just show up any time he felt like it, and pound on my door till I let him in. So... Diane only got to see the light of day in California. One year, I got caught up in a "random" police checkpoint. I later found out it wasn't random at all, I was targeted due to having out of state license plates. It started off easy enough, the officer claimed I broke a traffic law by not signaling when I stopped to pay a toll. I said I didn't signal because I didn't cross a white line (or change lanes). He didn't buy that, he said I technically exited the highway, and then re-entered the highway (I'm thinking BS, just give me the stupid ticket, let me pay it, and I'll be on my way). Then, he decided to cut me a break. He wasn't going to give me a ticket after all. A second officer pulls up and starts walking around my car. He bends over, picks something up off the ground and then walks back to the squad car where I am. It's drugs, he says. The first officer handcuffs me and puts me in the back of his squad car. He tells me he now has probable cause to search my vehicle, and he takes my keys. He told me that because I had thrown the drugs out of my car, I was looking at some serious prison time, possibly decades. He told me to come clean, confess, or turn in some other drug dealer, and he'd go easy on me. I wasn't doing anything illegal, and I had nothing to confess. He left me in the squad while he searched my car. First, the inside, then the trunk. I knew what he was going to find in the trunk. He opened it, and hit paydirt. All of my Diane stuff. I could see him get on the radio, and before I knew it, there were ten squad cars there. All of the officers took turns holding up my dresses, and throwing them down on the rainy highway. They pulled out all of my personal items and photographed them, and the first cop finally came back to me. He said that he believed that my dresses were stolen, and said I'd have to prove I had a job and the means to buy the items I had. That meant he had to call my employer. I worked for a very small company, so my boss answered the phone. The cop didn't really ask my boss any questions, it was more a snitching out. He asked if my boss knew why I would be traveling across county with a trunk full of women's clothing, then asked my boss if I ever used or transported drugs. My boss didn't answer, and the cop thanked him for his time. Then, he uncuffed me, said that the drugs they found tested to be sweet-and-low, and told me to "get out of here". I was forced to pick up all of my stuff off of the highway, including my laptop computer. Some of my stuff ended up in the traffic lanes and got run over, but no one cared. I pulled away and drove to the next exit. It was right then and there that I knew what it felt to be raped. I've told this story before, but except for my wife, no one else has ever heard the Diane part of the story. I still have nightmares because of this, and I don't feel that I can dress safely or have privacy anywhere. I found out years later that these cops were working off of a script, and this happened to many motorists (although they got to have some extra fun at my expense).
