I wake up happy. What more could I possibly need? This is all a man needs: a car, sex, and booze. I’m at the peak of my life.

I turn, and Wendy is still passed out naked on my bed. I throw on my boxer shorts and a vest, then walk out into the kitchen.

I find my mother preparing breakfast. It’s a lovely sunny Sunday morning.

“Morning, Mama.”

“Tumelo. Who’s that girl you brought home? Have you no shame? I could hear her screaming the whole night!” My mom spits.

Yoh! Embarrassment 101.

“I’m sorry, Mama. We’ll try to keep it low next time.”

“There will be no next time in my home. I told you, start with building backrooms so you can scream all night with your girls. Not in my house!” she shouts.

“Shh. I hear you, Mama. Don’t shout, she’ll think I’m a little boy.”

“You are a little boy. Sies man, Tumelo!” She stops stirring the pot of porridge and turns.

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Next time you feel like your blood is hot, sleep with girls in that car of yours. You chose it instead of getting your own shack outside, right? Let it be your place to bring girls to. I’m going to church!” She leaves, slamming the door.

“You’re not eating, Mama?” I shout after her.

Nothing.

Wendy walks out of my bedroom looking good. She’s wearing my shirt and slippers.

“What’s for breakfast, sugar?” she asks.

“Porridge,” I point to the pots.

“You’re kidding.”

“Yeah, I am kidding. I was about to go out. Should I get you fat cakes?”

“You’re really kidding. Does this body look like fat cakes to you?” she asks, pointing to her figure.

“What would you like to have?”

“Boy, I’m leaving.” She walks back to my bedroom and puts on her clothes. “Request a ride for me.”

I do as I am told.

I hand her a R100 note—that’s what the ride charged.

“I need to get breakfast as well.” She says.

I give her R300.

She snatches it, pecks me on the cheek, and leaves.

I don’t care if I just lost R400—I got laid!