Karabo directed me all the way to her office parking. I parked next to a half-full taxi that pulled out as I pulled in. It was a warm Wednesday night. A tall slender girl came out of the reception door, with her phone to her ear. My cell rang and as I answered, she walked over to me, figuring out that it was me because I parked exactly in the parking bay she said I should use and it was her calling my cell. I got out of the car and hugged her. The awkwardness of meeting for the first time didn’t quite wear off but we forced the conversation until we got used to each other’s voices. We were talking for the sake of talking. Just so there’s no silence. At the back of my mind, I had the typical bachelor’s fantasy of taking her to bed, but the reality was a bit different from how one fantasizes about this type of scene. I mean, she wasn’t staring into my eyes as if she wants to beg me to make love to her or anything corny like that. In fact, the more we spoke, the more she seemed to avoid eye contact and any heart-to-heart type of conversation. She was strangely impersonal. I wasn’t about to ask her to marry me or anything of the sort, but I wanted to know who she was, where she lived, where she was from, etc. I got my hint and the conversation gravitated towards cheesiness. It was fake.
Karabo: “Did you realize that my transport has now left me!?!?” She twanged so dramatically, like a little school girl trying to impress a visiting teacher. She cat-walked around the car and into the passenger seat. I got in the driver’s seat. I found this performance boring. I wanted to be real.
Me: “Yea, sorry. But I doubt they were gonna take you to my house. I’ll do that myself…” I studied her reaction. She had partially covered her face with her hand and after I said that she bursted into laughter.
Karabo: “Aren’t you just big headed!?!” She said that as though she liked that arrogance. Her whole attitude sort of said “Stop it; I like it!”
I decided right there and then that I was gonna drive off and unless she says anything about where I must take her, I was driving to my house. I asked what music she likes and she said anything. I played YFM.
“I need to take a hot bath.” I immediately ran the bath for her. I couldn’t believe that I had a perfect-stranger fantasy playing itself out in my own house! I asked to bath with her and she said no. I left her alone. My heart was racing as I flipped through the TV channels. Shortly, she walked into the bedroom with nothing but my beach towel wrapped around her upper body and flowing down to her knees. I was practically dancing with joy alone in the lounge – giving her a chance to make herself comfortable in the bedroom.
Something else was going on. I had this nagging feeling that had started from the moment I planned to take her to bed. I had never done anything like this before and, in fact, I had always imagined that no self-respecting girl would agree to something like this. I had expected some serious resistance from her so I had been taken aback by the fact that she not only tolerated my advances but she actually came back to that telephone conversation, directed me to her office and then walked right into the slaughterhouse, as I decided to call my house from that night. I suppressed the hell out of my conscience attack and mentally ticked off the “one night stand” fantasy from my bucket list. It was about to go down.
That night was weird. Inasmuch as I had wanted to be real, I regretted finding out that she was a rebellious daughter of a Full Gospel Church preacher and she was on a quest to do everything her parents had taught her not to do. She didn’t say it in so many words but at one point, she had said something about her staunch Christian preacher of a father. She actually sounded very sad about it but quickly changed the subject and started twanging again. That left a bitter after-taste. I had, pretty much, taken advantage of such a dark place in her life. I could relate with such rebellion because I had been on that path before. I thought about how this whole thing could have turned very ugly. I could have been a nasty serial killer, etc. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of how much better off she was without that night and any other reckless moves she may have made or that she may still make. I also thought she must be very lonely. I dropped her off at her place in the morning and left. Later that day, I tried calling her to make sure she’s okay and I couldn’t get through.
On Saturday, she called and told me that she used that number only for making calls. I didn’t ask for her real number. I basically allowed that call to die down without trying to meet again and I felt really horrible. I regretted what had happened and wasn’t going to let it continue. I realized that she wanted to be needed but I couldn’t let myself be that guy. I couldn’t be her drug or let myself get into a continuous cycle of indulgence followed by guilt.
On Sunday I attended the 10:30 service at Rhema Bible Church. It was a typical Rhema service but I had a strange time. Instead of listening to the preaching, I replayed a sermon from many weeks earlier, which had been about how one’s conscience can be seared and desensitized. I guess I was bothered that I might become desensitized to causing pain like I had done on Wednesday. During the alter call, the worship team sang a song whose chorus said “There’s room at the cross for you.” What a beautiful song it was! It was one of those alter calls that feel like no one’s in a hurry to go anywhere and a lot of people went to be prayed for. I didn’t go. I reasoned that God can hear my prayer without me going to the front. I just couldn’t bring myself to go to the front. I felt really bad about it, but I also felt proud that I could give a fairly interesting response if anyone ever asked what was the craziest thing I’d ever done. I was a bit torn about whether I’d do it again if I got another chance but I decided that I’m never causing pain ever again.