Diary of a Virgin

Nobody really believes I’d be a virgin at 22. The more the men ask for a good time, the more I make them understand that I’m keeping my honeypot for a particular somebody. The more they laugh.

The older I get, the harder it feels like it is to keep my hormones in check. Sometimes I want a hug here, a feel there, intimate talk, a flirt maybe, just something. Where did I read that the older we grow, the higher the libido? (you don’t really need to answer this question). 

More often I remind myself that patience is key after all, other wise keeping my virginity all this while would be in vain. You know how eating tomorrow’s yam never did anybody any good.

These days I have more men asking me out so they can get into my pants. They claim it is my body build that gets them attracted to me, but it is my wit however that gets them to stay. They think my talking about God is a sham, and that I’m just waiting for an enormous and a lot of money to change my mind.

Like today. 

This uncle asked me to send my account number to him, so he could transfer N10,000 to me, while he felt me up or while I gave him a hand job. It was supposed to be a hang out, but it didn’t stay that way for long; he had begun to miss me, and needed something to relax his mind.

At this point, all I felt was shock. I’d heard of people being paid for sex, I didn’t ever think I would find myself at that place. We came back to the hostel, after he kept repeating that I was acting for him, as per my being a drama student.

Here I go again, telling this huge guy that I have a faith I hold firmly to, and that my virginity is not for release till my wedding night. And he continues the cycle: ‘ we’ll see about that the next time we’re together’. 

I say my good night, tell him a little more about how we all need Jesus, all he says is ‘call me tomorrow after class’. 

I won’t.