After a birthday drink with Moogs last night, I met up with my first boyfriend who is in town for a few days. He was my first 'serious' boyfriend who I was with at the end of matric and into my gap year.
I haven't seen him in years – maybe seven or eight years?
He is a super fellow, it was great to catch up with him.
But I'll never forget Paris.
He came to stay with me in France, and we decided to go for a long weekend to Paris to, you know. You know.
We thought Paris would be the perfect romantic setting for the first time. As two 18-year old virgins, we didn't have a fucking clue what we were doing.
It took about three hours to work out how to put the condom on.
I got it so wrong when it came to booking where we were going to stay. I stupidly didn't inquire about a double bed. So arrived to the perfect setting of single, steel bunk beds. A room the size of a closet.
Both nervous, we had a bottle of wine to quench the nerves.
Needless to say, after a few attempts, the condom broke and we headed to a pharmacy the next day, me in tears, him looking quite pale. I needed a morning after pill, oh desperado. Oh heavens above - suddenly, how overrated was this sex thing?
(“I'm never having sex ever again! (wail, sob), what the heck do we do now, I DON'T WANT A BABY, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD.”)
Peas: (French still very shaky) Excusez-moi madam, est-ce que peut avoir le, um, pill?
She thought I was asking her for batteries.
Peas: Non non. You know les pills pour non bébé. (Wild gesticulations over stomach) No bébé!
Lady: Ah. Les Comprimés!(Hands me contraceptive pills)
Peas: Non non! It's too late for that. L'autre pill, comprimés. I do not want bébé, help, I am only dix-huit years old!
My boyfriend was skulking behind the disposable nappies looking like he was about to puke.
Just so you know, the morning after pill forces a woman to have a period straight away. It also makes you want to chunder for the rest of the day.
So Paris was a whole lot of romantic after that. Even strolling around the Louvre and going up the Eiffel Tower wasn't all that and a bag of chips.
Still, he was my first. We did the best we could. And, hey, at least he was my boyfriend, and not some bottom-feeder from a club in the back of a car somewhere after 8 000 Jaegerbombs.
We saw each other a bit travelling around Europe thereafter – randomly bumping into each other in Greece and Italy.
Looking back, it was hilarious. And perfect for two just-out-of-schoolers finding their way.
We had a few giggles over some drinks, and I marvelled at how things are going with his long-term girlfriend.
Good for him. He's a good guy.