Thank Goddess that is over....

Well, my manslaughter prelim didn't complete - the defence is now going to call a witness that will likely sewer my entire case. Oh well - I have no control over the evidence.

So, remember in my Erotic Dreams post I posted that I had some dreams about a cop? Well that cop has since moved, but had to come back to town for this prelim. And I admit, there may have been some mildly flirty emails back and forth leading up to his appearance back here in this town. Nothing remotely dirty, just some compliments on how amazingly brilliant we both were. He is in plainclothes doing major crimes work, despite being only 32 years old. I will dub him CC Secret Squirrel. And he is MARRIED. Ergo it would be a big mistake to go down that CCSS Road. Big time!!!

So I may have started having those dreams about him again. Which made it....incredibly AWKWARD to see him again. He made a huge point of getting me to block off some evening time to prep him for his testimony (the only police officer who did this). Which of course, intensified the dreams, fantasies and the dirty thoughts, despite my best efforts otherwise.

It culminated in his appearance at my house on the second night of the prelim. He stepped in and looked yummy. For you psychology types, I will admit that he looks kind of like my father when he was young, and that my attraction to him might be some twisted Oedipal thing. But we will save that for another day.

So he comes in, Bob the Dog is his typical asshole self, and we dash off to a restaurant here in town. Things are sufficiently cozy that our waiter asked if I wanted to finish CC Secret Squirrel's mushrooms. Apparently it did not look like a business meeting, despite the fact that at no time did we touch.

So we get back to my house, where the file is. I put on some sweats. I give us each a beer. I try to stop my 92 pound dog from crawling into his lap. And we work for about an hour.

At the end, he sticks around and we talk about life in general. At this point he mentions his wife sufficiently often that I feel almost not AWKWARD. Almost.

So he drains his beer - it's 1130 at this point. He gets up, I walk him to the door and maintain a 5 foot distance while he puts on his shoes. We say goodbye.

The next day it is all business, he starts his testimony, and that night he goes out for beers with the boys while I work my ass off on a brief for the next day. The next day he comes to court bright and early with possibly the ugliest tie and shirt combo I have seen in a while. It doesn't matter. When I look at him on the stand as I am leading his evidence, I am experiencing some major electrical shocks in the region of my hooha. I think, though, that I covered it pretty darn well.

He winds up his testimony. I am out of witnesses for the morning. My chief cop, who is not nearly as yummy and has a porn stash, suggests we all go for pancakes. CC Secret Squirrel bolts towards the door and mentions he has a meeting with another prosecutor in a city about 4 hours away from here. Since he couldn't have known that his testimony would be done by that time, I have to think he made that up. But he dashes towards the door, and looks back, and in that moment it looks like he might hug me right there in the courthouse. So I step back and give him a little finger wave and wish him a safe journey.

Crisis averted right?

So I open up the local newspaper the next morning, and there is a picture of CC Secret Squirrel in red serge giving someone in another town an award. I can't express to you how improbable this is. Suffice it to say there was no logical reason for this sighting.

I don't get it. So back I go to the online dating website, looking for someone single, but like CC Secret Squirrel. I am still scratching my head over the whole situation, but know that what happened (or what didn't happened) was the right thing. Maybe, as I ease into my 40s, I am starting to back away from the bonehead choices. Maybe I am still mourning the loss, such as it was, of the Tricky Man. At any rate, spring is here, and my libido is sub par, and I am content to spend my Saturday night playing Wii with a co-worker and her 8-year-old daughter.

Damn cops.