The Night That Was

1.00 a.m.

I wake up with a start to find him in my bed. A wave of anger and frustration grips me. I find myself hurtling unprintable words.

“You – ! What the – are you thinking! -! -!But you promised! You told me you’d let me sleep in peace! That you would treat me like a sister! That we would sleep on seperate beds the whole night! What in the world has gotten into you! I… I…” my voice breaks.

Much to my indignation, he laughs. Viciously. Ferociously. His is the quintessential evil laugh, the one that pierces through your being and extricates the little self esteem that’s clinging desperately onto you. His laugh serves to continuously remind you that you are stupid.

“Look here missy, I’m not, I’m not…” He laughs again. So hard that he’s grappling for air. After what seems like eternity, he speaks again.

“I’m not gay. Surely you wouldn’t expect a normal guy like me to survive a whole night with a girl in the same room and not pounce on her?”

How it started

I was the proverbial cow that dragged itself to the slaughter house. The guy’s desperate pleas to seek one one-on-one audience stirred compassion in me and I had to accord him that privilege. It was one of those boring weekends and I was sick and tired of my own company, so why not take a few minutes to try to know more about a new friend and listen to what he has to tell me? He also seemed interested to learn how to play chess and I offered to teach him. 

So at 8.00pm, chess board in tow, we went to his friend’s house. I texted a pal and told her of my whereabouts. I would not spend the night, I would leave by 9.30pm, I told her.

Agreeing to meet him was stupid, I agree. But what is being stupid? Is it choosing to trust people? Is it having a good heart and being willing to give people a benefit of doubt? And when people betray your trust, is it their fault that they don’t have good hearts, or is it your fault that you were stupid enough to trust them? 

9.30 p.m.

After more than an hour of extremely boring small talk, I want to leave. I glance at the chess board, lying untouched. The guy wasn’t even interested in chess after all! I shake my head internally.

“Hey, it’s been nice to speak to you. However, my time here is up and I need to leave,” I tell him, trying hard as I can to hide my boredom.

“But why? You can spend the night here. We’ll sleep on seperate beds.”

“You’re the one who told me that you’ll let me leave, remember?”

“I have really enjoyed my time with you and I don’t want to let you go.”

“I really want to leave, please.” I’m getting impatient.

Our argument continues in the same vein. I’ve lost the number of times I’ve told him that I have to leave. He even has the nerve to tell me that he loves me so much, he wouldn’t want to let me go. Apparently, my safety has become a matter of top priority to  him. At this rate, I would rather my things get stolen by thieves on the way to my place than spend the night with him.

11.00 p.m.

I’ve talked myself hoarse. This guy is not getting tired of arguing! I open the door and exit the house. Seeing my determination to leave, he has no choice but to leave as well to escort me. He takes forever to wear his shoes. He then accompanies me to the gate of the estate. There are around four dogs that keep an eye on us.

An obstacle that I had not forseen awaits us. The gate is locked! The guy maintains that he has no key. There is no sign of a watchman nearby. No wonder he was so keen on arguing with me! He wanted to buy time as he knew that the gate to the estate is usually locked at a certain time. What a -!

I have no choice but to get back to the house. I am exasperated. We sleep on seperate beds and I pray hard that I survive the night. 

4.00 a.m.

I am tired. Tired because I have been running from one bed to another since 1.00 a.m. The guy won’t leave me alone. He keeps following me. I have told him several times that I don’t want us to have sex but he wouldn’t listen. I get annoyed and leave the house once more. I’m determined to get the watchman to open the gate and leave this place.

I reach the gate and the dogs start barking fiercely. There is no way I can leave. I have no choice but to turn back, half-expecting the dogs to follow me, maybe rip me apart. They don’t. 

I have to swallow my pride and go back to the house. He opens, with an air of triumph. I foolishly hope that nothing would happen.

I make a mistake of lying on the bed and within seconds he is all over me. I turn him over with a strength alien to me and the bed collapses under our weight.

“Why have you broken the bed?” He is furious. “Get out! Leave!”

I am more than happy to leave the house. I am even happier that the bed is broken. He has some explaining to do to his friend. This is the price you pay for coercing someone into sleeping with you.

I sit on a verandah outside someone else’s house. I hope they don’t wake up and accuse me of being a thief. I can’t wait for daylight so that I can leave this dungeon. 

5.30 a.m.

I see a familiar tall muscular figure of a guy approaching me. Now what does he want this time?

“Unebelle, I’m really sorry. I’m not usually like this. I’ve never done this to anyone. Come, your safety comes above all else. I promise I won’t disturb you this time. Please forgive me.”

He picks my bag. I follow him to his house. He tells me not to sit on the broken bed. I seat on the other bed instead. He joins me.

“Unebelle, may I ask, are you a virgin?” he asks. 

“That doesn’t matter. Just know I’m one of those girls who don’t take sex very lightly.”

“But we would have used protection! I always make sure I use protection.”

“And that may have protected me against pregnancy and all, but what about my emotions? Do you think that protection would have prevented me from having feelings of regret? Or unnecessary emotional baggage? What about the feeling of attachment?”


“Lemme tell you why I don’t take sex very lightly. When two people have sex, it’s not all about the physical. Their souls become one. Think of paper. When you stick two pieces of paper together with glue, and you try to seperate them, some of the paper from the first piece will be on the second piece and vice versa. Now think of someone who has sex with several people. Think of their soul.”

“You know what, you’re right. When two people have sex, they become one.”

I’m surprised. Is this the same guy who was trying to rape me?

He continues, “Unebelle, I have a problem. I never see girls as just friends. There’s no way a girl would hug me and smile at me and expect me not to expect more from her…”

“Then you have a warped world view! To you women are nothing more than sources of pleasure. That’s sick! You need to change that! You need to learn how to control your emotions, don’t let them control you!”

Or maybe men are wired differently. Maybe they don’t think the same way we ladies do. I don’t know. 

Thankfully daylight is finally here. I leave the place. I vow never to get myself in such a situation again.


14 thoughts on “The Night That Was

    • First, thanks for dropping by! πŸ™‚

      I think we need to appreciate the fact that men don’t think the same way we do. We are all about the emotions while they are more of sexual beings. We just need to be careful so that we do not put ourselves in compromising situations πŸ™‚


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