Growing up sheltered, I thought that having sex meant automatically getting pregnant, which made me jealously guard my purity because I never wanted to disappoint my parents by getting pregnant while still in school.
After my A level, I was admitted to Makerere Business School (MUBS) to study Bachelor of Commerce. I made quite a number of friends in my class, most of them boys. While at least two of them showed interest in me, I assured them that I was not ready for a relationship at the time, and besides, I was keeping my virginity for the man who would marry me. They gave up on pursuing me, and we eventually became close friends. One of these friends was Simon.
One fateful Saturday, my friends, including Simon, went to a nightclub in Industrial Area, and, oh, what an experience it was because, being in my final year, I wanted to have this nightclub experience. Immediately after we entered, I noticed that some guy kept staring at me. After about an hour, he came to me and asked if we could dance, and I agreed. I had never been mesmerized like I was in that moment. I felt butterflies in my stomach every time he came close to my body. This shocked my friends because I was a reserved girl. He told me his name was Patrick, and that’s all I needed to know.
When the time to go back to the hostel approached, I told my friends that I was not going back with them. “Sophie, are you being real? You barely know this guy,” Simon said, but I told him that I knew what I was doing.
We left the nightclub, and got into an Uber, and in minutes, we were in Bukoto at Patrick’s apartment. We both took a shower, and in what felt like a few seconds, he started kissing me and touching my breasts. I had never felt that way before, and a few moments later, I had lost my virginity. In my heart, I thought that this was the right guy for me. We woke up at around 9:00 a.m., and I was in pain. After taking a shower, Patrick gave me transport and told me never to look for him again. I could not believe my ears. “Do virgins still exist in this day and age?” he retorted.
As tears rolled down my eyes, I left his apartment in disappointment and shame, jumped onto a boda boda, and went to my hostel. I narrated my ordeal to my friends, who were disappointed in me but comforted me. Simon advised that I take an emergency pill to avoid getting pregnant.
“Can you imagine losing your virginity to an idiot who did not value your purity, yet some of us here genuinely love you?” Simon said.
Simon’s statement stuck with me for some reason.
The support from my friends, who did not judge me, helped me forget what I had gone through.
After university, Simon and I dated, a relationship that resulted in marriage, and together we are blessed with three children.
As I look back on that moment, I realize that I gave away a part of myself to someone who did not appreciate its value. It is a painful truth, but one that has taught me a valuable lesson. I have come to understand that my worth and identity are not defined by a single experience or person. I am more than the sum of my past choices.
If you are reading this and have experienced something similar, know that you are not alone. Your story is valid, and your worth is not defined by anyone else’s actions. You are strong, capable, and deserving of love and respect—from yourself and others.
