Having a Boyfriend
As a child, I never thought of having a boyfriend to call my own someday. Growing up, my dad has always been singing in my ears not to interact with boys or even have male friends because he is too strict and protective, but then again I don’t always see things his way. He also believes that every boy that approaches me will want something more than just friendship. He always tells me to make book work my boyfriend. All through my life, I had never thought I would have a secret as simple as having a boyfriend from my parents. When I was younger my dad would always say “don’t I know just standing or kissing a boy could get me pregnant?” to some people it would probably be strange for them to read because they are not use to that type of life style were one has to hide their relationship with an opposite sex from their parents. In America, it’s common for adults to tell their parents who they are dating. If I try as much as to tell my dad that I have a boyfriend, I would probably receive a slap across my face. Between my dad and my mom, my mom understood the fact that at a point in my life, I would date at the right time which is when I am mature enough. But my dad doesn’t understand that at all. At the age of 13, I was living with both my parents when my dad moved to America. So I was left back home with my mother, brothers and sisters. At this age, I wasn’t old enough to start dating and I was still in primary school. My mind wasn’t on boys and I didn’t know much about having a boyfriend. During my first year of high school in Africa, boys started approaching me and I was 15 years old at the time. It might have seemed a little bit too early for me to be dating but most of the girls my age or even younger were dating. I was living with my mother since, my dad had moved to America, so it was easier for me to date because my mom wasn’t strict. She would let me go out, but always told me that I couldn’t keep late nights which was awesome. I could do all that but I still wasn’t allowed to date. In my second year, of high school, I attended the same school as my boyfriend which was when we actually started dating and he was my very first boyfriend. I had no problem spending time with him because we attended the same school, and I saw him every week days but there came a point, when we wanted to spend time together after school which means I had to come up with a lie to tell my mom in order to leave the house and come back late without her complaining. So I lied, and said I was going to study for my exams. Other times, my boyfriend would come to my house like he was visiting my brother but instead he was visiting me. When I moved to America, I didn’t start dating until my freshman year in high school. I dated my boyfriend for a year and six months without my dad having any knowledge of it. Since my dad didn’t want me to date or interact with boys, nor talk of having a male friend; I had to come up with an idea that would at least allow me to see him from time to time. Sometimes when I would leave the house, I would tell my dad I am going to the public library. At that time, I didn’t have a computer at home so I would use the library as an excuse to go out and spent time with my boyfriend. Other times, I would lie and say that I am staying after school, but instead I went and spent the rest of the day with my boyfriend. Just recently, like lasted month, on the 9th of august, my boyfriend came to visit me from Maryland. My dad didn’t know anything about the secret except for my brothers and sisters. He came as if he was coming to see my brother but he actually came to see me. One grateful day, I came back from work early and I and my boyfriend had talked about going on a dinner date. Gratefully, when I got home he told me that my dad had gone to work and he won’t be back until 11pm and I was very excited. Around 8pm, he and I got ready and drove to T.G.I. Fridays. We ate, talked, laughed and...
Cited: Brent Staples. “Black Men and Public Space.” 75 Reading plus. Ed.Santi V. Buscemi and Charlotte Smith. 9th ed. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1986.247-249 Print.
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