Give Black Love A Chance?

I can't stand politics, man. Why is everyone always obsessed with the life of the Black woman in America? Since when does the White media give a damn about us? I mean, a White guy named Zimmerman shoots an unarmed young Black man in Florida and it takes the entirety of the African-American community's activist network to force the rest of America to give a damn. A racist White guy goes into a Sikh Temple in Wisconsin to kill people and nobody thinks he's evil for it, they keep making excuses saying he had mental health issues. Same goes for another White guy, a student who went into a movie theater screening the latest Batman movie and shot a bunch of people for apparently no reason. Again, this bozo isn't demonized by the White media. Yet whenever a Black celebrity does anything, they can't get enough of it. Fuck you, fools!

My name is Victoria Adewale. I'm five-foot-eleven, curvy but funky, with dark brown skin and long black hair. People say I look like the Hollywood actress Jill Scott only taller. Whatever. I was born in the City of Kano, in northern Nigeria, on February 4, 1986. A year later my parents, James Adewale and Vonette Hussein Adewale moved to the City of Montreal, Province of Quebec. I grew up in the Confederation of Canada and I consider myself a proud Canadian. I have an MBA from McGill University in the City of Montreal, and recently got hired by Tele-Nexus, a telecommunications company located in the City of Boston, Massachusetts. Moving from Montreal to Boston changed my life, ladies and gentlemen. Before moving to Massachusetts in the summer of 2011, I had never even left Canada since my parents and I moved there decades ago. The state of Massachusetts surprised me, folks. Seriously. I thought the City of Montreal was one of the most racially diverse cities ever because we had so many Haitians, Jamaicans, Arabs, Chinese, Indians and Hispanics living among us. I've seen Black professors at prominent schools like the University of Montreal, Concordia University, McGill University and the University of Quebec.

Yet in the state of Massachusetts, the Governor is a Black man. How about that? I was simply blown away. Like everybody else living on God's green earth, I knew that Barack Obama, the biracial son of a Kenyan-born Black man and a White American woman, was the President of the United States of America. I just didn't realize how much progress the United States of America had made when it came to racial matters. There are Asians, Hispanics, Blacks and Middle-Easterners in both Houses of Congress and nobody bats an eyelash at that. In Canada, Parliament is still exclusively the dominion of White men and White women. God bless the United States of America for their progress. Of course, racist White cops are still getting away with shooting unarmed Black folks and minority customers still get followed around in stores across America. I guess we're still not in the post-racial society that Martin Luther King and Malcolm X dreamed of. Still, America is far ahead of Canada when it comes to racial relations, I'll tell you that much right now.

While living in Canada, I dated mostly White guys because Black men in Canada mostly go for women of other races. I was in a relationship with a charming guy named Carlos Dos Santos for three years. Carlos is tall, with long black hair, light bronze skin and pale hazel eyes. He's half White and half Dominican. To most people, he looks Italian but he considers himself a mixed-race guy. Carlos and I met at the McGill University library. I had just gotten dumped by my former boyfriend Mohammed Youssef three days before I met Carlos. Mohammed is Somali, and like most men from east Africa, he was tall, dark and handsome. The thing about Muslim guys is that they always expect the woman they're with to convert to Islam. I was raised Catholic and my religion matters to me. Besides, Christianity grants women far more freedom and respect than Islam ever will. I've seen what Muslim guys do to non-Muslim women they get involved with. At first, they're charming, friendly and generous. It's all a front. Once you're married to them, they show their true faces. They're masters of deception, and they think women should be slaves and men should be kings. I almost married Mohammed Youssef. Almost. Glad I didn't make that mistake.

I was happy with the hunky gentleman known as Carlos Dos Santos. The guy was sexy, friendly and wickedly good in bed. He licked my pussy so good that I seriously asked him if he was a lesbian in a past life. He would laugh and tell me that he had lots of practice, that's all. The dude was packing an eight-inch uncircumcised Latin monster cock and he knew how to use it. He would pound my pussy so hard and so fucking good that I had tears in my eyes when it was over. Carlos and I meshed really well. He was studying civil engineering at the time we were dating, and according to his friends and family, he really loved Black women. I wasn't surprised. Although his father, Ricardo Dos Santos is White, his mother Rosario Cantador was mixed. She was half black and half Hispanic. Carlos had a lot of different ethnicities in him. When you look at him, you think he's either Hispanic, Italian or Arab. In truth, he's a lot of these things and more. I honestly thought I had found my prince charming. Unfortunately, when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. One day, I discovered that there was a side to Carlos that I never knew.

Carlos likes Black women, what I didn't know was that he liked all things Black, including Black men. I came home one day from a trip to find him in bed with his best friend Miguel Cadenas. I'd met Miguel before. A tall, muscular Black guy who had some Hispanic blood in him judging by his light brown skin, curly hair and pale brown eyes. He was a graduate of McGill University's electrical engineering program. Dude was married to a tall, blonde-haired white chick named Heather Kensington. Carlos introduced him as his best friend. Well, I found them in bed together. Miguel had Carlos on all fours, face down and ass up, and was fucking him in the ass on OUR bed when I walked in on them. I caught my man with another guy's dick up his ass. I was too shocked and too horrified to say anything. I just ran away. They saw me. I saw them. And I ran. I ran out the front door, and ran down the street. Next thing I knew, something hit me and I woke up in the hospital.

I had gotten hit by a car, which fortunately wasn't going too fast. I still ended up on crutches for the next six months though. Carlos cheated on me, and when he came to visit me at the hospital, I smacked his face. I called him a faggot. He left. I don't know what became of Miguel. Maybe he and Carlos should get a place together. Bunch of closet case bastards. When I came home from the hospital, I began putting my life together. I went back to school, finished up my MBA and then began looking for work. When an opportunity to work in the U.S. came along, I took it. Thus, I ended up in Boston, Massachusetts. Working for the acquisitions department of Tele-Nexus. Working long hours for a job that paid eighty six grand a year, after taxes. Hmmm. Taxes are far more lenient in America than in Canada. I've got a new job, a new place in the Back Bay area of Boston and a new life. Yet I am still alone.

One day, I was sitting on a bench inside Boston Common's green park when a tall, good-looking young Black man walked near me. He had a dog with him. A big Doberman. I've always been a sucker for dogs. The tall brother with the dog approached me and smiled. He was cute but caution is what every male gets from me after what Carlos, Youssef and Miguel have done to my poor little heart. Still, there was something about this guy. He introduced himself as Claude Dumarais. I was kind of surprised by his name and in French I asked him where he was from. Claude told me he came from the island of Haiti, but grew up in Boston, Massachusetts. I smiled at that, and told him I knew lots of Haitians in Montreal, my hometown. Claude surprised me by saying he had family members in MTL, as us locals call it. I smiled when he told me that. Me too!

And that's how I met the handsome Claude Dumarais. A fine brother if there ever was one. Judging by how good and how physically fit he looked I figured he'd at least be a good roll in the hay if anything. Later, when I checked out his info online ( I always check up on new guys I MIGHT be interested in ) and what I found amazed me. Claude Dumarais, born on November 9, 1986, was a graduate of Northeastern University Law School. He was a new associate with Trevor & Watson, Attorneys at Law on Beacon Street in Boston, Massachusetts. I found out all that in less than ten minutes after clicking his name on Google. And the guy only gave me his number, not a business card or anything. When I called him, we talked and he asked me out to a quick bite and a movie. I happily agreed. Dinner was fantastic, and we saw the movie The Expendables 2 together. I had a blast with him. He's cute, sexy, educated and evidently enjoys the company of Black women. I'm going to snatch this one up before the competition does. Wish me luck!