Muslim Lesbians Of Saudi Arabia

"You're so lucky to live in this country, with parents who support you, Stephanie, if my parents found out I love women, I'd be dead for sure," Afaf said wistfully. We arrived at her place, and sat on the couch, watching TV. Afaf was in a somber mood and try as I might, I couldn't cheer her up. I took her hand in mine and kissed it, then kissed her.

"Stephanie, you can't joke or sleep your way out of every situation," Afaf giggled, even as I drew her to me, and began undressing her. Afaf got on top of me, and we made love. Much later, I ordered pizza and then Afaf and I spent the rest of the evening watching reruns of Pretty Little Liars, and then fell asleep in each other's arms.

As much as I love Afaf, sometimes her secretive nature really pisses me off. I was born on July 4, 1995. I'm a tall chick and I scowl a lot, so I've often been told that I look older than I am. When I went to the advisors office to inquire about business courses during my freshman year, the lady at the office was stunned when I told her I was only nineteen.

My sweet, beloved Afaf is the opposite, seriously. When Afaf told me that she was born on November 3, 1988, I was stunned. This chick was close to thirty, and was doing her Master's degree in civil engineering at Carleton University but looked like a twenty-year-old! I've heard of black doesn't crack but dammit, Arab women really age well if Afaf if any indication!

"My darling Stephanie, you've actually been banging a MILF all year and didn't even know it," Afaf said jokingly as I stared at her, astonished, after seeing her birthdate on her emerald and gold Saudi Arabian passport. I smiled and shook my head, marveling at Afaf, who smiled coyly and shrugged. Will wonders never cease?

"Keep secrets from me and I will spank you," I said to Afaf, trying hard to sound serious while she grinned mischievously at me, and then I kissed her. It's astonishing how much I love this weird, wonderful, gorgeous, complex and feisty Saudi Arabian chick. The woman who changed my life. The one who makes my heart beat. Afaf Hafiz of Saudi Arabia.

Seriously, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Afaf. Shoot, if Afaf wanted me to, I'd happily convert to Islam ( I was raised Catholic but since the church and lesbians don't get along, I'm a lapsed Catholic ) and marry her. We could get that piece of paper at Ottawa City Hall and have a nice queer wedding. I'm sure Muslim lesbians exist. Afaf and I could be the world's first openly lesbian Muslim couple.

Sadly, it was not to be. After completing her engineering studies at Carleton University, Afaf and I celebrated her graduation with my parents ( hers were unable to attend, being in Saudi Arabia and all ) at a nice restaurant, and we threw her a little party. Afterwards, Afaf and I went back to her place. I had it all figured out. I'd contact Citizenship And Immigration Canada, better known as CIC and file for Afaf to become a permanent resident of Canada. We were in a relationship, had been in one for close to a year, and I could sponsor her by law.

"Stephanie, I will love you until the day I die, but I cannot turn my back on my duty to my family, to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia itself, and to my Islamic faith," that's what a teary-eyed Afaf said to me later that night. We had come home from the graduation party, and made passionate love, and I told Afaf about my scheme for getting her permanent resident status so she could stay in Canada.

"Don't do this to us, Afaf, you love me, don't go back to Saudi Arabia and play wife for some foolish man who's probably got five other women at home," I said hotly, alternately pleading and raging with Afaf to reconsider. Sadly, Afaf's mind was made up. We had a loud argument, the worst in all of our time together. Tempers flared, things were said, and, um, I ended up going home alone.

There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. The story of how I, Stephanie Stevens, born in the City of Montreal, Quebec, to a white Canadian mother and Jamaican immigrant father, fell in love with Afaf Hafiz, a Saudi Arabian Muslim lesbian and thusly experienced the greatest loss of my life. Afaf has gone back to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, leaving me heartbroken.

I lament the loss of my sweet Afaf, the woman who changed my life. I can't stop seeing her face in my dreams. I think of the many passionate nights we shared, and I think of Afaf in the arms of another. I think of Afaf playing wife for some man, and my blood boils. I feel terrible, and I can't stop weeping, but my parents tell me that this too shall pass. For the first time in my rebellious twenty years, I hope my parents are right.