Category Archives: Freedom

January 23, 2012 · 12:00 pm

My first one night stands

I have always been a “good girl”.  Never played hooky, got good grades, generally polite, sweet, innocent … those are the sorts of words that come to mind when I think back to my younger years.  I was also a bit of a “late bloomer”. I wasn’t really interested in boys until about 16, only had my first kiss at 18, got drunk for the first time at 18 and so the list goes on.  When I went to University I carried on along a similar path. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I definitely did things I probably “shouldn’t do”, but *gasp* I never, you know, slept with anyone I shouldn’t have.

I only slept with two guys at University – both my boyfriends, although the first one wasn’t at the time, and I can hardly say that it was memorable (I’m not sure I did actually sleep with him, which may sound weird, but we were both so drunk, I didn’t feel ‘sore’ the following day, and I don’t recall any blood (that may however have been due to my inebriated state)).

Anyway, enter boyfriend number 2.  We slept together (enough in a two year period) but I never actually enjoyed it. It was a chore. How lame is that? I loved him; he loved me, but sexually? I just don’t think we were compatible.  I used to think it was me, that I was just destined to not enjoy sex, and that was that. (This may have also been because when I first went for a pap smear the University doctor mentioned I was ‘built differently’ which I suppose lingered at the back of my mind.) Anyway, in time we broke up (which ironically was not because of the sex, but that’s a story for another day) and I started my life in anew city.

A few months passed and I had to go and see my doctor for my annual pap smear (never fun, but important nonetheless) and while there I got to talking to her and queried whether there was anything, you know, wrong with me. She laughed and told me to stop being silly and that there was nothing wrong with me.  I told her what the other doctor had said. She said that what the other doctor probably meant was that my lady parts are usually found in girls that are very tall (I’m not – I’m about average height). So then I queried, well why hadn’t I enjoyed sex with my long term boyfriend? So she asked a number of questions, one being how often we had had sex. I replied, not often (who wants to have sex often when it’s uncomfortable!?) and she responded and said that that was the problem and that the next boyfriend I found I should lock myself in a bedroom with him for days on end and get used to sex and then I should, in all probability, enjoy it.

Great! Now to just find that elusive boyfriend…  Well two years went by and nothing happened.  In this time I heard my ex had moved on and would be getting married. Great.  I had no inclination to have him as the last guy I had had sex with, but at the same time, no one was presenting themselves as someone I necessarily wanted to date. Just great.

I then went to this party and boy what a party it was. Bright lights, fun clothes, awesome people, too much alcohol.  Well, anyway, as I suppose things happen, I met this guy, partied with him and ended up going home with him.  It was great, he was great, minus the fact he was about 4 years younger than me and we probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as we had. We laughed, talked, had some good sex, laughed some more and he dropped me off at home in the morning.  I knew him through someone else that knew him and we had fun. I had fun. Fun having sex.  Awesome.  Then the doubt started creeping in. I had had sex with someone I didn’t know and didn’t care about. Was this a problem? I did struggle with this for a while, but then got over it.  I had had sex with someone I’d wanted to have sex with, it was good, and I had had fun. Added bonus? My ex wasn’t the last person I had had sex with.

Fast forward 5 months, and it was the same sort of situation. Too much alcohol, love was in the air, very, very sexy man and me.  Suffice to say sex happened and when I say happened, I mean OMG mind blowing, out of this world, crazy, fun, phenomenal sex. Now THIS was a problem … on so many levels. 1. It was great that I found out I was capable of having mind blowing, amazing sex (twice) but 2. I felt like I had done something wrong when I hadn’t, because I had now slept with two men that weren’t my boyfriends.

This I struggle, and continue to struggle with.  I think it also has to do with the fact I do actually want someone in my life, but don’t really have the time to commit and, in all honesty, haven’t really met anyone yet.  What further compounds my problem is that I can’t get this man out of my head. We talk (a little) but don’t stay in the same province (which is probably a good thing) because I worry that I’m probably making out our evening in my head to be far more than it actually was. I know that it was just sex, but it scares me that I can have such amazing sex with someone I don’t know. It also scares me that I can now and seem to “just have sex”. What I do know, and have gotten from these experiences, is that I can’t continue to have sex with “random” guys – the guilt eats me up inside (for no reason – I’m young, single, use protection, and enjoy myself – I can tell myself this, but I still feel dirty). So then I realise, I need to meet someone, to trust them, to date them, to have sex.

New conundrum. When will I meet said person? I’m either destined to be celibate, or hopefully, sometime soon, Mr Right (or even Mr Right Now) will come along and he and I can have mind-blowing, amazing sex, that I now know I’m more than capable of having.

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November 25, 2011 · 3:41 pm

My First Time Travelling Abroad

At 22 you are meant to be in the prime of your youth. You are meant to be very happy like a modern-day Mary Poppins, fun is meant to ooze out from your back pocket, people are meant to smile at you while you skip down the street to a tune you made up in your mind like they do in commercials, all things perky are meant to stay perky for at least another good 8 years. So when I felt at 22 that none of that was happening (except for the last bit) and the stars were rudely wiped from my eyes by the reality of life and for believing in dreaming so much, I was really confused.

I wasn’t sure if I was in a mid-life crisis or in my case a quarter-life crisis or maybe I was just demanding too much out of life too soon. Thinking back right now, I couldn’t possible tell you, but all I know is that back then I wasn’t happy and I wanted more from life than what I was reaping at that very moment. All the things I wanted to achieve for that time in my life, I wasn’t even dangerously close to achieving and that deeply concerned me.

I was 22 working for a great company with great staff and a lovely manager who later became a very valued friend in my life, I was helping out like an adult at home, my responsibilities had become neck high but I enjoyed it. I had great friends and a supportive family structure it looked like things could go on forever on this pace and it would all be ok.

Some how, for some reason it all just started seeming very mundane to me. All I remember thinking before I took action was that I finished high school at 17, I went to varsity and know I’m working, and then I will work some more, finish studying, then buy a car and do my bit for society and my family, buy a house, study some more, then work some more, then start a family then work a little bit more, go on a few holidays then retire and work a little more ( because lets face it your pension is a joke unless you’re Irene Rosenfeld). Then dutifully daisies will start smelling so much clearer during those years, then I would probably start having dreams of tunnels with bright lights then trumpets will sound and my good Lord will whisk me away to a real first class, five-star V.I.P. party.

You see? I’m hoping you agree that the way that last paragraph looks is not slightly appetizing and I definitely didn’t sign up for it (though truthfully I don’t remember ever being given an option and the sequence of events doesn’t really go the way I described it but you get the point ok!). However I sat at home and weighed my options and thankfully there had come an opportunity for me to travel through a friend of mine, and though it wasn’t how I envisioned I would travel I just literally went for it without even thinking about it.

And there ladies and sort of gentlemen (times have changed no one opens doors these days) My First Time travelling alone abroad came.

Taking the step to move to England was not even a concern, I was so excited, I hadn’t planned much besides the necessities of what I was really going to do there and everything seemed to have been organized for me already by the family I was going to stay with. It took a matter of months or weeks really to plan and notify people who I was going to be m.i.a in the motherland for a bit and some people couldn’t even believe it was happening until I landed at Heathrow (my mother included).

And boy did I feel grown up, I won’t bore you by mentioning the itty bitty details of boarding the flight but I can tell you something, although it was almost half a day travelling, it was the most memorable time of my life. Not the actual flight but the possibility and hope that was attached to it. I know understand why some people think it’s best to leave a place. Whether it be from a broken heart, some embarrassing situation you found yourself in if your life is public to others or merely just to travel and see Gods beautiful playground, it’s not so much the place you are going to, although that counts for 80% of the reason as to why your African posterior is being flattened for 11 hours by a supposedly luxuriously cushioned seat but it’s that feeling of renewal and new hope.

It’s almost like being baptized again, you have that chance to redo, to explore. The stars are definitely in your eyes again, you definitely are a little girl in a big world with a suitcase and a teddy looking googly-eyed and hoping to conquer in your own way. And all the rough rides and knocks you were scarred with while growing up are somehow dismantled because at that moment you are your own Christopher Columbus. The thought of a new place, new people, new scenery and finding your own way in that little society and making your own life even if it means eating canned water (if there is such a thing) for the rest of your days is a MasterCard moment. It’s so priceless and rewarding it sends butterflies in your tummy that metamorphose into dancing fairies.

That was me in August 2009 sitting on Virgin airways just thinking and thinking and thanking and thanking God.

I look back now almost 2 years later back in South Africa. And although things didn’t go according to plan as they never always do with a life that we don’t control, I’m back where I was in an office desk, 9 to 5 scenario, composing this. And you know what? it’s ok because I couldn’t have it any other way. My life is at a place where it’s meant to be, I’m planning my work schedule for the next week and researching courses to study some more and I’m not entirely happy but that’s somewhat a bit overrated sometimes. (The truth is, my little kiddies, is there are bills to pay that don’t even make sence on your pay slip, for all you know under the UIF fee that you pay and may not fully utilize is your bosses golfing lessons named special deductions or skill development fee that you’re too scared to ask about hence why you’ll never be fully happy) I have lived although not fully, I have loved although not wholly I have seen although not clearly, I have conquered although not entirely but I have experienced and that’s been the best moment of my life not the travel or the work or the money or the status but the experience and every fulfilling decision and mistake I have made have been worth it because they are apart of that experience which makes me know as I am and will continue to make my many first times to come.

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February 8, 2011 · 2:42 pm

The First Time I Tried Drugs

On Saturday i tried MDMA and cocaine for the first time!
Scary stuff! I’d like to blame the space i am in my head at the moment, but i think secretly I’ve always wanted to. I am a smoker and do have the odd couple of drinks, but i wouldnt say i have an addictive personality at all. My views on drugs have always been that i’m not interested in them. they’ve never really apealed to me. I have smoked weed a few times and honestly HATE it. I hate the feeling of being high and not being able to come down. I also act like a complete loser when i’m high because i giggle for hours and eventually just pass out. GREAT HIGH PERSON.

Saturday, we’d been out having a serious party. I had, had far too much to drink but was still up for anything. We tried greenside and by the time we got there everything was closed so off to another club. We walked around having a look scanning the area. Having a little jam on the different dance floors! We decided to go upstairs to the minimal floor, standing ordering a drink. this guy came up to me. Not a creep or anything. A short scotish guy.
he complimented me, on what i have no idea because i was looking a bit worse for wear! next thing his 2 mates arrived and my friend X and i stood talking. After some small talk they asked if we would be keen to take MDMA with them. Being the virgin in the situation i glanced at X, funny enough earlier we had been talking about taking drugs and X knows a lot about, she was on them for a bit and also dated a guy fr ages that had a drug problem, X said she didnt mind and if i wanted to try we could. So we agreed, gave our new friend the money and stood waiting. he was gone for about 10min and came back with a couple of white capsules. X and i went into the bathroom, broke the capsule in half and each took half. The taste was DISGUSTING. Very bitter.

It took 15minutes and i was suddenly feeling amazing! Didnt notice anyone else around, barely heard the music. just felt like i could dance for ages! amazing amzing time. i cant really describe it better than i have, just because it almost seems like a blur. at about 7ish we decided to leave. i was still buzzing and felt amazing! X drove us to our new friends house and we sat on the varanda and spoke crap. Next thing a plate was bought out. I’ve seem cocaine once before this time, in a bankie. X told me she was going to take a line and that there was no pressure. the first couple of times i sat and watched but then decided i wanted to try. So i did. took a baby line. As i’m not all that clued up, i didnt really know how i should feel. but i felt like i had LOADS of energy! i could not stop talking. for about an hour i sat talking the biggest loads of nonsense. and then the come down hit. This is the reason i will never do it again! NEVER have i ever felt so ill. X dropped me home, i literally got straight into bed. i slept for about 3hours. I woke up, my pupils were huge. i could not stop shaking. i felt nauseous. i couldnt eat, couldnt sleep. nothing just could not function at all. i sat on my bed and just cried.

What I was crying about who knows! eventually i manged to fall asleep. I can not tell u how relieved i felt this morning. no shaking, no huge eyes. Even weirder was that i havent slept for longer than 3 hours since Saturday morning and i’m fine. Still high? hope not. I know i will never do cocaine again. it doesnt feel nice, dont even know if it feels like anything. MDMA i’d like to say i wont take again, I know that it was amazing but i prefer being drunk, so maybe that’ll stop me the next time. looking back, i’m glad i did it, try everyone once and all that, but i know i could never tell my friends! So i guess its between X and I.

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