I packed my bags and set off for a year in Rustenburg. Steve was in Johannesburg – just under two hours from where I was. The first half of the year was epic for the both of us. We came from a rural town so this newly found freedom was everything. Rustenburg is a slow town with not much to do so every month, without fail, I took a taxi to Joburg. With the little allowance we got, we would go to the mall, the movies and also go clubbing every now and then. The Bliss Corner in Braam was my favourite turn-up spot. It was really dodgy but also very lit! Braam was buzzing with life. It made all those crazy hours spent studying in matric so worth it. It was, however, not without its dangers.

Things slowed down in the second half of the year. I think I only went to Joburg once in every two months. The pressure to get our academics in-line went up a notch. Steve was always busy. And even when I went to see him, we hardly went out. Life became boring. I did not understand why it was suddenly not possible to study hard and have fun like we always did in high school. To spare myself from heartache, I stopped going to Joburg altogether. It was then that I started developing a wandering eye. I had to find excitement. I do better in school when I’m happy.

I found a fling to pass time with in the days when Steve and I were not talking. Not my proudest moment. There I was risking a 4-year-old relationship for a weekend special. I would like to say I regretted it but that would be far from the truth. Being with the other guy made me realise how wasteful young love can be. I did not love this other guy. He was a distraction from my reality just as I was to his. I started letting go of the idea of living ‘happily ever after’ with Steve. Life is filled with temptations. Being with the other guy helped me understand why it was so easy for Steve to stray but so hard for him to let me go. Not coming forward about my infidelity set the foundation for my risqué young adult life.

In Rustenburg, I shared a flat with three other ladies who became my bestfriends. It was through them that I got to discover my latent spicy side. They helped open that window just wide enough to peep in and see that Miss Ratchet was present but not too wide to let her out completely. When things seemed to be getting out of hand, we shut the window. I opened the door for her when I moved to Pretoria the following year. Even though I was much closer to Steve (just under an hour away) we hardly saw each other.

In Pretoria, I stayed alone in a bachelor flat right next to campus. One morning on my way to class, I was stopped by a man looking for directions. This man, Peter, became the end of me when he opened his mouth and exposed his English accent. With the way he was bending his tongue I could tell he was from somewhere in the UK. He was well in his late 30’s. Fair in complexion with skin smoother than my baby’s bum. His vocabulary suggested that he was an intellectual and me being a sapiosexual did not help much in putting out the fires. To thank me, he took me out for lunch and we practically went out every weekend from that point.

The man drove a Bentley. A smooth operator of note. Fighting for what I had with Steve became extremely hard. Even when Peter showed me a picture of his then 13-year-old daughter (which suggested the presence of a woman in his life) I was not deterred from pursuing a ‘relationship’ with him. He told me he was single and I believed him. I wanted to believe him. I knew I was a Gone Girl when I almost canceled Valentine’s day plans with Steve because I was secretly hoping to spend time with Peter instead. Peter worked for the United Nations as ‘something’ in International Relations so his job made him travel a lot. One day, he left for the UK and never came back. My relationship with Steve was then too damaged to salvage. A rocky five-and-a-half years later, Steve and I broke up. My encounter with Peter awakened a desire for ‘international relations’.