You know how that one incident can change your life forever? It affects you so much that you never completely recover from it. Even though you desperately try to convince yourself otherwise, subconsciously you are still bound to the memories and it occasionally invades your dreams and becomes the object of your nightmares. I never expected my first time to be this way. To be honest, I really don’t know what my expectation was, but I definitely knew I didn’t expect what happened.
I have had my fair share of make-outs but have never gone all the way. It isn’t due to lack of opportunities; I had a good number of opportunities back in secondary school but I always flunked out at the last minute. I know it had a lot to do with my stern upbringing as a Baptist. In my house, the children were made to believe that the two greatest evils in the world are the devil and the feminine gender (this is contestable), with the latter being a powerful weapon for the former (remember Adam in the garden). So I grew up unsure of what to make of the feminine gender and my mother made matters worse as she never ceased to hammer it into my head (every opportunity she got) “if you touch a girl, she would get pregnant for you” (as if it were that easy). And then she would go on and on and on… “If you want to bring shame upon yourself, that is not my problem, but I would not allow you to bring shame upon this family. You will not drag the name of this family in the mud, So ti gbo?” At this point (as if on cue), my father would intercept with his all-time favorite adage “A ki n kanju la obe gbona” which roughly translates in English as “You don’t hastily devour steaming hot soup”.
Although my parents did their best to keep me on the right path, as I approached puberty, curiosity and peer -pressure got the best of me. It actually started with a sneak peek through the keyhole of the bathroom door whenever our housegirl, Maria was inside and I always tried to make sure nobody was around to see me. That ended quite dramatically as not up to a month later, Maria caught me and she threatened to report me to my mother. I knew the consequences would be dire if she did, so I pleaded with her, promising her half of my weekly pocket money. I had to do something to protect myself just incase Maria changed her mind. So I told my mother that Maria had been bringing different men into the house when nobody was at home. Imagine my mother’s reaction? She went ballistic, beating the daylight out of the poor girl before sending her packing. I didn’t see that coming, but it made the situation better. My secret was safe.