One might say that I’m a lucky person to live in a Middle Eastern country in which being a homosexual is legally not illegal (does that make sense?) some might even argue that we have some kind of equality as both us — the gays and straight people — might get arrested for the same things such as public indecency or immorality… You might think that if you’re the “glass half full” kind of a person… which I’m most definitely not but so badly trying to be.

Hey… you might even think that I’m extremely lucky that I don’t live in a country in which the chances of me getting my head chopped off are as guaranteed as well… Madonna not getting another top 10 hit in the United States ever again?!

Well, I don’t think I’m lucky… this arrest has set me on a path on which I made every stupid choice imaginable… it paved the way for me to screw up and screw up hard… it just got me in the right headspace to make the ill advised decision, take the wrong turn and fuck up my life… You get the picture!

I was in such a state of shock that I just wanted to disappear (which I did for a couple years at least) and even got super into worshiping the lord almighty — I was a devout Muslim for a year — which only made my mental state worse as time passed by (hopefully I’ll write more about religion in the future… Maybe?)… Being repressed both emotionally and spiritually got me so depressed that I had vivid waking dreams of me ending my life… I thought about that while I cried myself to sleep every night… and for day as I tried to put on a spectacularly happy face just to appease those around me — for the first few months no one but my father knew about the arrest and I had planned to keep it that way.

I woke up every day — that is if I my attempts at falling asleep worked — and put on a joyful, brave mask upon my sad, defeated face and went on with my day as if nothing ever happened, while the dark void inside of me got bigger and bigger the more I forced myself to be happy and good.

The void never left me… til this day, though it has gotten smaller and only had a great effect on me a few times after — the last time was last year.

I never felt fully comfortable, nor got over it to tell the full story to anyone… My family knows some of it, so does a couple of my straight friends (they still don’t know I’m gay and they knew the story from some other sources)… And those few people I chose to tell only know the incomplete version.

I think I’m ready to tell the story… it only took me 10 freaking years to get over the fact that I — a fucking square of a person — got arrested for kissing a guy, spent a night in jail, got tried for public indecency, almost spent 3 months in jail, got outed to my whole family in the process (which is something they seem to have forgotten, thanks to the power of denial) and got my life so badly derailed that I am in this mess of a situation… but now I’m over it and here is how it all happened…

I am not good at telling stories… so if anything I wrote above has piqued your interested… thank you for bearing with me and my sincerest apologies putting you through all this awfulness.

Before we get to that unforgettable night, let us set up some back story real quick…

At the time I was 18 with a scholarship to study business administration at my country’s national university (the only good university) and I recently got my driver’s license (after three tries)… The guy I did the unspeakably horrendous act with was my high school crush — let’s call him Muhammad — and we’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months since we sort of but not really came out to each other.

Now that we got all of the pointless babbling out of the way let’s get to that unfortunate night…

On that humid and sticky night back in July 2007 (I don’t remember the exact date) Muhammad and I made plans to meet at his house for some one on one face sucking time (among other things) but due to some unexpected house guests we weren’t able to make that plan happen and instead we spent a great chunk of time brainstorming on MSN Messenger (yes.. we were still on it) and we finally came up with the ingenious idea of driving to a very public but poorly attended beach about 30 minutes away from where we live.

So I told my dad that I need his car to go meet a friend for dinner and he hesitantly gave me the key… I changed into shorts and a tank top and got into the car… by 7 pm I was at Muhammad’s house and just as planned he was waiting for me outside. He got in the car and we exchanged a hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek (very normal and heterosexual in our culture) and we drove hand in hand to the beach while listening to Kelly Clarkson’s My December.

Once we got there the whole area was pitch black and there were very few people around. We searched for a very secluded area and parked at the far end of the parking space where no other cars were parked, just in front of a very shabby hedge fence. We made sure there weren’t any cars around us and after about 15 minutes we started kissing each other.

Now I must say that I did not have a very good feeling about this and something in the back of my mind kept on telling me to stop and drive back home, but since I was young and dumb I did the opposite and agreed to move to the back seat to get more comfortable once Muhammad suggested doing so.

We were very cautious at first, we kept on looking outside every few second but as time went on, we got more into the kissing and less cautious until we forgot about the world around us. We were engulfed in the darkness of the night and nothing mattered to us but each other’s lips… As we got more into it, he laid down on the back seat and I laid on top of him and we continued with our kissing.

The whole world along with time went by without us realizing it. A car came out of nowhere and parked behind us without us noticing until it flashed its lights in high beams… we were startled and confused and it took us a minute to break our embrace.

We stayed there in the car “hidden”, thinking they won’t find us if we did not move … but how wrong were we? One of the guys stepped out of the car and walked slowly to the back window and gently knocked on it and then everything came crashing down on us.

We composed ourselves and got out of the car. To my relief (and how stupid was I) they weren’t dressed in police uniforms, so I thought this could go two ways, we either give them what they want and they’d let us go or we can be stubborn and get our asses kicked and then get reported to the police… the reason why I thought this way is because there are a lot of people who drive around dark, secluded places looking for people in compromising positions and take advantage of those people… I’ve even heard some stories about guys who make the drop on straight couples, beat the crap out of the guy and threaten the girl to give it up to them or else they will “expose” her to her family… I digress.

So I thought it’s either I get raped or give them money which both seem less terrifying than getting the police involved (yes, that’s the kind of society we live in). Unfortunately and to my dismay, they were the police… a civil patrol. The guy who knocked on the window was tall and broad with a square face and drooping shoulders. He had light skin and a scruffy beard. The other one was of average height and a very scrawny built with a perfectly trimmed beard that encased his narrow face.

They made fun of us. Called us fags (faggah and makhaneith in Arabic). The skinny one asked us who was the top and who was the bottom I answered that we weren’t doing anything other than kissing. The big one called us liars and said that I was the one on top… they laughed and ridicule me for being the obvious bottom and how I should have been fucked instead of doing the fucking… they looked at Muhammad and asked him how he could let a faggot like me top of him… we pointed out that both of us were fully clothed and there was no penetration at all. But the big one got defensive and was offended that we didn’t confirm his version of events.

We begged and pleaded to no avail. They kept on demanding on knowing the truth and we did tell them the truth. We were just kissing and nothing more. We did nothing but kissing and it was harmless… “Please slap us and let us go”… “Don’t involve the police”… “We swear we won’t do it again”… “Spare us the scandal… spare our families the humiliation”… Those were just a few of the humiliating phrases we used (some were more humiliating but I cannot properly translate them to English).

After what felt like an eternity we asked them what it is that we can do for them to let us go since they did not call the police yet (we later found out that they didn’t want to arrest us and drive us in the same car for whatever reason) and the skinny one suggested that the only way out of this is for us to tell the truth. Which we did, multiple time but they still refuse to believe it although the big guy has seen it with his own eyes. When we pointed that out he said that we could have had enough time to pull out and get dressed (which we didn’t)… We tried and tried and tried but they insisted… so we asked if they were really going to let us go if we told them what they want… and they said yes… so we succumbed and said that we were fucking. The moment those words came out of our mouths the big one went and called it in.

It took as little as 15 minutes for the police car to get there. I don’t remember how I felt when I got in the car police car while Muhammad was taken in the civil patrol car.

The scrawny guy drove my car.

By 9:30 pm we were all at a very small village police station not very far from the beach, the chief there (who was from another Arab country) felt bad about our arrest and suggested that they let us go, but unfortunately the horrible guys who made the arrest already called it into the main station.

When we got to the station I was shown to a seat in a very messy office and I was “interrogated” by one of the officers who was short, slim and had very long, dark greasy hair. He began his so called interrogation by lighting up a cigarette and blowing the smoke straight in my face.

“So you were the one on top” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. The second was “You don’t even have facial hair?! The other one looks more manly and hairy!… I could see him fucking you… not the other way around.”

I didn’t reply.

He asked for my ID and I did as I was told. He said my family name aloud. Then ask… “Are you from….” and I answered with a yes. Then he asked me if I knew a guy from that village. And I said yes… he’s my cousin.

He laughed.

He got up from the chair he sat on and went outside. When he came back the scrawny guy was with him.

“Are you really Ibrahim’s cousin?”

“Yes, I am”

“You know Ibrahim,” he asked the scrawny person which now I know is called Ahmed.

Ahmed nodded and then said “I was just with him a few days ago. Great guy!”

“Yes, he is. He’s a great soccer player as well… Do you play?” He asked me.

I nodded no.

“Of course you don’t. Fags don’t like sports. And you look like a very soft one” as he buffs smoke from his thin lips and then grins.

I didn’t reply.

The rest of the what happened was just them having a conversation about their previous conquest with girls and talking about great guys they know who have caught other guys with guys and girls with guys and taught them a lesson. They talked about how they abused them physically and even threatened some bitches and fags to expose them unless they have sex with them. Great guys indeed. The greasy haired one asked Ahmed why didn’t they beat us or slap us then let us go to which he answered that Abbas — the big one — was bored and that he didn’t feel like letting us go.

They ignored me and kept on smoking both of them until Abbas walked in and demanded that I sign an empty paper.

I asked what it’s for and he said it’s just a paper I need to sign in order to make things easier for them and myself, I was told that I needed to sign those papers to expedite the processing of my release. And because I’ve never been arrested before, nor have I been inside a police station let alone be interrogated by police officers ever in my life… I did as I was told.

I was then asked to undress my shorts, so they can test them for DNA (seriously… this seriously happened). I shyly protested that demand since I made the very bright decision to not wear underwear that night. Abbas was amused by this and made a comment that I should be comfortable being bottomless while spending the night at the holding cell, stating the fact that I’ll be surrounded by hardened criminals who will fuck me up might toughen me a bit.

The chief of the station (I don’t know what’s his name or whether he is called chief or not… but that’s what I’ll call him) was aggravated by Abbas comments and ordered to grab me something that I can cover myself with. And so he did.

I changed out of my shorts into a pair of ragged sweatpants in the privacy of the messy office then bagged the shorts in a green plastic bag (the kind you get when buying groceries at a convenience store) they provided me with. I opened the door and handed the bag to Ahmed who handed to a preoccupied, young looking officer sitting behind a counter.

Ahmed then pulled out my car keys from his pockets and asked me politely to produce my wallet, ID card and mobile phone. I pulled out my wallet to looking for my ID and then I remembered that I gave it to Mr greasy hair. I told Ahmed and he called out for Isa to bring the card. Now that everything I have was on the counter, the young looking officer paused the show he was watching on the stations computer, pulled out a book then went through the content of my wallet noting every item that was in it in the book. He placed everything in a brown paper bag, wrote my name and some number. He placed the green bag over the paper bag then he turned around slowly and then went inside a grey door that was just behind him. As I waited at the counter I looked over to Ahmed and asked about Muhammed. And he informed me that he was transferred to the main station to spend the night. When I asked by he told me that they wanted to get us separated so we don’t scheme anything or create a story that will give us a chance to contradict the confession (what confession I hear you say… well I found out at the trial and so will you…I think!). Just a few minutes later the young looking office came out of the room and wrote another number in the book then he rotated the book towards me and asked me to sign my name next to my name. And I did.

Now that I’ve been officially booked, Ahmed grabbed me by the elbow and guided me to another grey door just beside Isa’s messy office and said “This won’t be bad… it’s just one night… and you’re kind of lucky to be arrested on a Thursday eve… If you were caught after twelve you would have spent three days in holding… tomorrow you’ll be taken to the main station and then to the public prosecution to be presented to the public prosecutor and after that you’ll be released by midday.”

He opens the door, greets the others held in custody and gently ushered me in.