It all started with a Joburg boy called Robin. I don’t even remember how we started kissing or when I realised we were going to sleep together. I was seventeen and very drunk and had decided it was time to lose my virginity and it might as well be Robin the dodgy Joburg boy who was 25 or 26 as anyone else.
Perhaps he would not realise I was a virgin. I do remember leaving the party and getting into his car and driving the streets of Joburg, the street lights flashing past in a yellow blur. Robin stopped at a 24 hr shop to buy condoms and I was no longer going to be a virgin. I don’t remember taking my clothes off but I do remember lying on the sofa and Robin exclaiming “you are a virgin”.
He said “I am going to teach you how to please a man in a way that every man after me will thank me for.” Robin was not the most suave or sophisticated man but he was kind of sexy in a slightly seedy, used car sales man way.
In the morning he wanted to have sex with me again and I lay back and closed my eyes as he had sex with me again.
Tears trickled down my face as I realised the enormity of what I had done in my alcohol induced state. I prayed to God it would be over soon and he would leave me alone.
Eventually I was able to escape into the shower and scrub myself clean. How had I let this happen? It had seemed so right in my drunken haze but not in the cold light of day. Little did I realise that this was just the start of my relationship between sex and alcohol.
The men became irrelevant and by the time I was 20 I realised I had never had sex with a man sober. I had returned to Botswana a fallen women child.