One particular instance; of many, when I used the Women's Restroom.

First, let me start by saying that due to space issues, most San Francisco businesses only have one restroom which is shared by both genders.  Regardless, the San Francisco By Area is a very open-minded progressive place and doesn’t target people under irrational claims backed by conservative mindsets.   So, I’ve used the women’s restroom or shared one with women many many times before, without any issues.

On a particular occasion, the Jewish Contemporary museum in San Francisco was hosting an Amy Winehouse cover’s night (July, 2015), to which I went in drag as Amy.  During intermission, I had to pee.  So here I am, six feet tall in a gorgeous black dress and a beehive.  I wasn’t comfortable going into the men’s restroom, so I opted out to use the women’s.  What I didn’t know was that a huge line had already formed before me.  So, as  I made my way past the two doors, I came upon a dozen or so women in line waiting to use the stalls.  It must have been quite a site.  I apologized and I said I felt weird using the men’s restroom in drag and that I hoped they didn’t mind.  One older lady said to me “You look like you belong here.”  I appreciated that.  

I sat down to pee.  I sat down with my six inch heels on and my panties around my ankles (yes, I even had panties on).  Now, I sit down to tee-tee at home all the time, but it was odd for me to have to sit down because I felt that I had to, but it was my compromise.  I’ve peed standing up before while wearing high heels; It’s nothing knew, but I sat down more so out of respect for the ladies, and because my beehive must have been towering over the bathroom stall.  I came out, washed my hands and left.  It was an episode that stood out to me from my evening.

The recent dialogue around the restricted use of rest-rooms based on gender in North Carolina brought up that particular Amy memory for me.  I didn’t go into that restroom to hurt anyone or take advantage of any ladies.  I am a gay man and have no sexual interests in women or their bodies.  I went into the women’s restroom because that night, I was a woman.  I was Amy.  And I felt more comfortable using the women’s restroom.  I felt safe there.  I felt welcomed.  I felt that I could retreat to do one of our most basic bodily functions in the company of others in the same vulnerability.   Period.   (I also recognize that my presence could have made some women uncomfortable, but I hope that the encounter and uneventful episode was on some level positive and educational for them too, as it was for me – especially now with this topic a flamed. 

Although for the most part I was welcomed into the women’s restroom, now I realized that, had this taken place in a different city or state, the outcome could have been an entirely different picture.  I am lucky to live in this place called the Bay Area, because we strive to make people happy; not marginalize anyone.   I really wish that the American conservatives would stop targeting sectors of the population and let people happy and free.  

Now, if a man is going to harass or assault a woman, it doesn’t have to be in a women’s restroom.  It will be wherever – criminals are everywhere and are determined to do their evil deeds; without putting on any makeup. 

Your Shit Online

The question about "How much should you share on social media?" has been around for years now.  There are stories with happy endings, and some with tragic ones.  And yet, our online behavior has not changed; if anything, because of the degree in which technology has incorporated into our lives, we don't even question our online reveals any longer.

So, that Saturday with the delicious carpet food, you shared with us about the dude who had become frustrated about the Goodling and shit.  If there was a moral that I took away from it that I could apply to my life, it was "If you don't want people to find your shit online, then don't post it". Period.

So, I met up with a friend to sing karaoke in Concord later that night at a bar.  It's a little dingy hole in the wall frequented by Walnut Creek frat boys and the typical East-East-bay white trash.  It's fun.  It's so dysfunctional that it's fun. 

At one point, I went to the men's restroom which has all walls covered with tiles.  Taped to there were several sets of paper mustaches, along with one dollar bill with "For a good time call (xxx) xxx-xxxx".  Because of the mustaches, I thought it was a clever way for the bar to promote.  And I liked it, so I took the dollar bill of the wall and brought it home.  Out of curiosity, I google the number to see if it was the number to the bar, but it turned out it was not.  So my next step was to plug into Facebook.  Bingo.  Hot sexy stud of a man.  But, things were not making sense until I realized that someone had played a joke on him.  So, I actually texted him and sent him a picture of the dollar bill along with a message that said "This was hilarious.  And clever".  Dude replied with:  "My buddy Thomas gives great head, call him at *********".  So, the joke went into deeper.

I plugged in Thomas' phone number into Facebook and was able to pull a profile, with so much information:  married, with kids, likes to ride dirt bikes and hunting.  His wife works at a college up in the hills.  So on so forth. 

Anyway, what is the moral of my story?  You have no idea how much of yourself you are divulging to the world, and how easily traceable it can be?  With a phone number from a bathroom wall, I was able to pull so much information on these two strangers and their lives.  So, yeah... if you don't want it known, don't post it.