Hi y’all, Betty here. Enjoy! **** Sally and Bolaji were standing on Awolowo Road, squinting and searching for the bright yellow colour of a Lagos taxi that could provide them redemption from the sun and respite from the heat. It was while they stood here exchanging mundane banter that Sally asked Bolaji about her boyfriend…
Hi y’all, Betty here. Enjoy!
Sally and Bolaji were standing on Awolowo Road, squinting and searching for the bright yellow colour of a Lagos taxi that could provide them redemption from the sun and respite from the heat. It was while they stood here exchanging mundane banter that Sally asked Bolaji about her boyfriend who had visited from Port Harcourt the weekend before.
“So, have you guys done it yet?” Sally asked only abstractly while checking her phone for new messages.
Bolaji was frustrated. Sally had made it her duty to ask the same question about Bolaji’s virginity whenever a chance to lose it had passed. It felt to Bolaji as though her virginity was an embarrassment to Sally; and she was about to tell Sally just this- probably let her annoyance show by adding that she should put off further comments until she was invited.
But this pause in conversation; the silence where a fast “No oh. Not yet!” usually was; this hesitation had Sally lowering her phone and simultaneously raising her brows in the way some women do when they have heard something surprising and worthy of gossip. Sally turned fully to face Bolaji, dismissing their search for a cab.
“Ehn?! Haaayy! Finally! Oh gaaad! Tell all! Was it good?” Sally’s torrent of questions flooded of Bolaji.
Realizing five seconds too late what had just happened, Bolaji’s neck went slack, letting her head lull to her chest, exasperated.
Taking this as a nod, Sally did a little jig on the streets. “My friend is finally a woman now ohhh!” She threw her hands around her friend and although Bolaji turned her nose at the smell beginning to gather at Sally’s underarms, she enjoyed their embrace. Sally wasn’t given to physical displays of affection.
“I’m really happy for you,” Sally said when she stepped back and Bolaji could see that she really was. She was confused.
But not for long. When the day was over and she had had more side glances and winks from Sally than was comfortable for her peace of mind, Bolaji decided to stop being a virgin.
After all, no one could know for sure but she.
So, Bolaji lost her virginity to herself by peering into her eyes in the mirror and willing it away.
The next time she was out with friends, she did the things she assumed a sexually liberated woman should: she made dirty jokes and no longer cringed when Sally’s cousin was crass. She was brasher, more confident and showed a little more cleavage. Sally stared at this change in surprise and a little apprehension because Bolaji had always been the meek friend she could advise and strut her worldliness before.
Bolaji took her new-found ‘freedom’ exhilarating. She bought condoms and left them lying carefully carelessly in her bag. She tried to place a strategic hickey on her neck one weekend her boyfriend visited from Port Harcourt but it was too difficult, so she spent all of thirty minutes gnawing on her own shoulder so that when she wore her slinky tube top the next day, Sally tsked and shook her head in admiration at the red blotch on her fair skin.
Bolaji’s boyfriend was shocked by this change. You see, Bolaji had tried to get him to dis-virgin her after she had dis-virgined herself; but he had made an oath to her (and her mother) to stay away until marriage after a priest from his village had warned him from stealing her ‘anointing’. He was planning to propose in August. But he couldn’t reconcile his homely Bolaji with this wanton spitfire who greeted him with her tongue down his throat and brazenly stroked the bulge in his pants.
He was scared. And he blamed that Sally friend of hers. So he made a call. To warn Sally away.
Bolaji walked into Sally’s kitchen the next Sunday evening, twisting her neck to straighten the imaginary kink in her neck.
“Long night?” Sally asked, slamming her fridge shut. “Emeka?”
“Yes oh. That boy is so vicious!” Bolaji giggled.
Sally walked over to where Bolaji had sat on the kitchen counter. She placed a bowl of cut pineapples next to her. “Yeah. He’s quite vicious. He called me sef. Said I should stop giving you ideas. That I should stop staining his good girl.” She pushed the pineapples closer. “That you people were saving sex for marriage.”
Bolaji was quiet.
“Talk naa. Aunty Nympho. Abi your acting power don finish?”
Bolaji picked up her bag and walked out of Sally’s kitchen.