Quebec Women Loves Haitian Man

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Uptight Quebec woman falls for Haitian man.
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Samuelx
Samuelx
2,122 Followers

Jungle fever. That's what everybody thinks when they see us together. As if sex is the only thing in the minds of Black men and White women when we get together. Well, as someone in such a relationship I resent that. My name is Anne-Marie Longueil. I was born and raised in the City of Trois-Rivieres in the Province of Quebec. My world changed when I moved to Metropolitan Montreal to attend University. It's where I met the young man destined to change my life forever. Jean-Francois Poisson, a proud native of Northern Haiti sent to study at the University of Montreal by his relatively well-to-do family.

I have quite simply never met anyone like Jean-Francois. Tall, dark and handsome. So sure of himself. Loud and brash, yet so sweet when you get to know him. I've seen good-looking Black men before, and that's not why I was drawn to him. It had nothing to do with his sheer physical presence, which he had a lot of at six feet two inches and two hundred and sixty pounds. No, it was something else which drew me to him. Simply put, he got on my blasted nerves. He didn't like the Quebec culture, or our way of speaking the French language. And he was quite vocal about it.

As a proud Quebecoise, I wanted to teach him the error of his ways. To be blunt, I wanted to smack the hell out of him. My Quebec heritage is something I am quite proud of. I am what my people call a Purelaine. My family has been in Quebec for a long time. Way back when it was called New France. Long before the British dominated what would later become the Confederation of Canada. Want to know how to spot a Quebecer? Easy. We're sexier and smarter than other Canadians, especially those blasted Anglophones. They envy us, you know. We walk a little straighter and carry ourselves with more confidence. We're more passionate, and livelier. And I am a proud representative of my kind.

I stand six foot one inch tall, neither fat nor slender. I am a real woman and real women have curves. Because of my height, curly blonde hair and icy blue eyes, people are forever asking me if I'm of Nordic ancestry. As a Quebecoise of purest lineage, I am deeply offended. Hell no to the power of ten! Gallic blood flows through my veins. My family lived in the City of Calais, Republic of France, before moving to the Province of Quebec, Canada. That was centuries ago. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yes. I was about to tell you how I almost smacked the hell out of my future husband the first time we met. He was big and tall, intimidating in the eyes of many but not to me.

You've never seen a Quebecoise when one of gets mad, have you? Other women got nothing on us! Like a fury from the deepest pit of hell I went up to the offending man, and let him know what I thought of him. Jean-Francois stood his ground, and looked at me cockily. A Haitian man's specialty. I told him that he should watch his words, lest he offend the wrong person and get his ass kicked. Jean-Francois was clearly not used to being spoken to in this manner. Nevertheless, he grinned that charming grin I would later come to love. He apologized, and looked at me with a strange look in his deep brown eyes. His eyes moved up and down, and his grin changed. Into something I recognized easily. The look of lust. I scoffed, and walked away.

The burly Haitian laughed, and wished me a nice day in his flawless yet heavily accented, not-from-Quebec French. That should have been the end of it. An arrogant Haitian man insulted my homeland of Quebec, and I stuck up for my heritage. However, it wasn't. For I ran into him again. Inside my Literature Francaise class at the University of Montreal. Professeur Gaetan L'Oiseau was discussing the Works of Rabelais and a very persistent someone kept interrupting him. Whom, you may ask? None other than that infuriating burly Haitian. Clad in a bright red silk shirt and Black dress pants, he was correcting our French professor in front of the entire class. And the entire class appeared to be on his side. What is it that makes Haitian men so damn arrogant and so sure of themselves? I don't know. Must be something in their homeland, or perhaps it's genetic. Nah, Black men from Africa don't have it.

I shook my head. The Haitian was trying to get himself in trouble so early in the semester. Immigrants usually stick to the Province of Ontario because the rules in the Province of Quebec are different. Stricter. Us Quebecers are welcoming, especially to Haitians, French-speaking Africans, and Arabs from francophone lands. However, it is our belief that Quebecers should have a worthy place in Quebec. We are proud of ourselves as French Canadians. We don't apologize for being who we are. Immigrants have to adapt to us, or get to stepping, as the blasted Anglophones like to say. Someone clearly hadn't told the rules to that particular Haitian guy, whom the Professeur called "that irascible Haitian upstart Jean-Francois". I had to give Jean-Francois credit for standing his ground. It takes major balls to stand up to the French Profs at the University of Montreal. Most of them think of themselves as the Gods of Mount Olympus.

Class ended, and Jean-Francois stood in the hallway, getting accolades from many a student who wanted to see our annoying Professeur put in his place. I was heading out when our eyes met. I really hadn't planned on running into him. In fact, I had never noticed him in class before. Well, I had never noticed him before because he signed up for our class three days after the term officially began. I just love how the school bends the rules for international students. The University of Montreal is becoming more international all the damn time. Scores of Africans, Arabs, Asians, Hispanics as well as foreign-born Caucasians have made it practically theirs. And us Quebecers are starting to feel a bit left out.

Jean-Francois eyes met mine for the second time in days, and I froze. Don't ask me why. I just did. He smiled and walked up to him. He extended his hand. After a brief hesitation, I shook his hand. I introduced myself, and complimented him on his misguided bravery. He laughed and told me he had a wicked sense of fun and liked to take down 'clowns' who took themselves too seriously. I grinned and told him that he wouldn't last long at the University of Montreal with that kind of attitude. Being a cocky Haitian man, he gave me a very patronizing look and told me not to worry. I shrugged. It's his life. Jean-Francois licked his lips, and asked me what I was doing for lunch. I froze. Was the cocky Haitian seriously trying to ask me out? As if! I told him I had a boyfriend. Little White lie. My ex-boyfriend, Robert Des-Croix, left me for Lisa, some big-booty Jamaican chick he met while visiting relatives in the City of Boucherville.

That was three months ago. Jean-Francois must have sensed something was amiss because he wouldn't relent. He told me that my significant other must have me whipped if I was scared to have a meal with a classmate. He also licked his lips provocatively while saying it. The nerve on him! I rolled my eyes, told him to mind his damn business and walked away. Haitian men!

I went home, and actually got some homework done. Then I got ready for work. I work as a Librarian's Assistant for the University of Montreal Library System. One of dozens of young women and men tasked with making the Librarians jobs easier. All for sixteen dollars and fifty cents per hour. Um, that's before taxes. It's not much but it pays my rent. According to the Ministry of Education for the Province of Quebec, my parents made too much money for me to qualify to much governmental financial aid. Isn't that simply parfait? I have to struggle to pay for University fees and rent while international students from the Caribbean, Africa, Asia and the Middle East often get free rides just because the Canadian government wants to look good in front of the world. Does that seem fair to you?

My mother, Sylvie Ortis Longueil is a patrol officer with La Surete Du Quebec, the provincial law enforcement agency. My father Eugene Longueil is a schoolteacher in Montreal-Nord. We're not rich people. I have a tough life. I have to work twice as hard as some people just to get by. Damn immigrants and international students don't get that.

I went to the Library, and busied myself cataloging data for the school. I really, really hate it when students refuse to pay Library fees for late books. They make my job harder because I've got to call them. Many times. Anyhow, guess who I ran into at the Library? None other than Jean-Francois. And this time, he wasn't alone. He sat there, talking to a tall and dark-skinned, predictably big-booty Black woman. She seemed to be hanging onto his every word. He glanced my way, and his smile froze me in my tracks. Again.

He waved at me. His lady friend followed his gaze, saw me and shook her head. Out of basic politeness, I said hello. I guess she didn't like that. I gritted my teeth. She was giving me the look. What's the look? Black women give it to White women all the time, especially when there are Black men around. I wanted to tell that annoying Black chick she didn't have to worry about me. I'm not one of those White women who chase Black men. I'm a Purelaine. A purebred Quebecoise. No way in Hell I'm after her man. Especially an arrogant Haitian guy like Jean-Francois. I resumed my work. Yep. I put thoughts of Jean-Francois and his big-booty Black hussy aside. I had more important things to worry about. Like making my rent. I pay four hundred for rent every month plus one hundred and twenty for hydro, heating and electricity combined plus thirty bucks for cable. And I'm taking four classes at the University of Montreal this semester so I can only work nights. Which means no sleep for me. Isn't that fantastic?

I was pushing a cart full of books when something blocked my way. None other than Jean-Francois. He had an apologetic smile on his surprisingly handsome face, and told me that his cousin Ashley could be a handful. Cousin? Ha! I looked him up and down. What kind of fool did the Haitian mofo take me for? From where I stood, she hadn't looked like his cousin to me. She seemed pretty possessive of him. Jean-Francois told me that, like him, his cousin Ashley had been sent to study in Montreal. She was originally from Boston, Massachusetts, and was enrolled at McGill University. Hmm. A Haitian chick from Boston studying at McGill University in Montreal. How about that?

Haitians are really a widespread and deeply prolific bunch. I hear they're all over America, the rest of the Caribbean, Canada and even France and Britain. Amazing. Jean-Francois asked me if I was doing anything on my next break. Damn, he's really persistent, isn't he? Just as I was about to answer, I saw his 'cousin' standing nearby. Her eyes shot daggers at me. I smiled at her and then looked at Jean-Francois and said yes. I would love to grab a bite with Jean-Francois. He grinned, and, sensing something was amiss, he turned around and saw his cousin hovering nearby. He gestured for her to come on over. Thus, we were formally introduced. Ashley Poisson had a firm handshake. According to Jean-Francois, she used to play Soccer for the University of Massachusetts in Boston. Cool.

I'm a Soccer player myself. Contrarily to popular belief, not all Canadians play hockey. I'm really into Soccer. I've still got T-shirts from the Women's World Cup. I was rooting for France the entire time. Jean-Francois told his cousin I was joining them for dinner. She looked annoyed. And her annoyance was nectar to me. To add insult to injury, I linked my arm with Jean-Francois as we left the Library together. His cousin looked like she wanted to kill me. I was all smiles. It's so much fun to get at these Black women. And they make it so easy.

The three of us went to the nearby cafeteria, and got to know each other over coffee and bagels. I had packed my own lunch but I skipped that because I wanted to try something different. Besides, Jean-Francois was okay company. He's very intelligent and pleasant, if you can get past his cocky persona. Also, I was really, really enjoying myself while making his cousin uncomfortable. At dinner, I learned quite a bit about Jean-Francois. He was new to Canada but hadn't come to Quebec straight from the Republic of Haiti as I had imagined. No, he lived in Boston for six years before coming to Canada. He was a new United States Citizen.

What in hell was he doing in Canada? Apparently, the schools in the U.S. were so damn expensive that he chose to study in Canada instead. I kind of raised my eyebrows at that. Grinning, Jean-Francois told me that even with international fees, the University of Montreal was far less expensive than most similar-sized institutions in America. He'd gotten accepted to Boston University after graduating from Brockton Community High School but the fees were simply astronomical. Wow. I hadn't thought of that. I smiled. All of a sudden, I felt really good. There are suckers out there with worse luck than me when it came to school costs, and they're in America! I gently touched Jean-Francois arm, and told him he was most definitely welcome to Montreal. His cousin Ashley bristled when she saw this, but she said nothing. In fact, she soon excused herself and left us, saying she had something to take care of.

Jean-Francois laughed and told me she was surely off to see her boyfriend Lucien Gagne. I licked my lips. Who was Lucien Gagne? Jean-Francois shrugged and told me his cousin Ashley had the hots for some White guy from Ecole de Technologie Superieure, a technical school in Quebec. Hmm. Imagine that. This big-booty Haitian chick was dating a White guy yet she was frowning because I appeared to take an interest in her cousin. Wow. The hypocrisy of these Black women will never cease to amaze this Quebecoise. I smiled at that. Once Ashley was gone, Jean-Francois and I could speak more freely. And to be honest, I liked what he had to say. He was really fond of the City of Montreal, the crown jewel of Quebec.

Hearing him talk about the wonders of Montreal actually warmed my heart. Montreal is one of the best cities on Earth. I prefer it to Toronto, Vancouver, Calgary, Halifax and all the other big cities of Canada. The only other City in the world which comes close to rivaling its beauty is Paris in France. Jean-Francois smiled when I said that. I looked at him. Grinning, he told me he'd actually been to Paris. And with that, he produced a small album out of his jacket pocket and showed it to me. Taking the album gently into my hands, I looked at photos of Jean-Francois and friends at places I recognized though I had never been there. The Cathedral Notre Dame De Paris. L'Universite de Paris a Sorbonnes. Les Champs Elysees. Always on the short list of a Quebecois when visiting France. Wow.

I gazed at the pictures and for a second I was distracted by how, um, pretty, Jean-Francois looked in a Black leather jacket and blue jeans. I handed him back the pictures. My emotions must have been reflected on my face, for Jean-Francois asked me if I was alright. I nodded quickly, and looked away. This was too much. He'd been to Paris, the City of my dreams! I've been wanting to go to Paris forever yet I'm too broke to even contemplate it. Did he realize how lucky he was? Jean-Francois gently touched my hand. I froze, and looked at his big brown hand on mine. The look on my face must have shocked him for he quickly shrank away. I apologized, and grabbed his hand. God, he looked so offended. Jean-Francois stared at me, a cold look on his face.

I apologized again, and gave his hand a squeeze. Us French Canadians are really touchy. In case you didn't know. We're the most tactile Europeans around, next to Italians. Jean-Francois looked hurt, and I had hurt him without meaning to. I couldn't stand the hurt look on his face. I wanted to make amends. I told him he was a really awesome guy, and I wanted to get to know him better. Hear more about his travels. I took out my Tellus cellphone and gave him my number. After some hesitation, he took it. I smiled and told him he really surprised me. He was not at all what I thought he was. There was some hesitation on his face still, but it was quickly replaced by a smile. He asked me what I was doing later. I told him my day was wide open.

Grinning, Jean-Francois asked me to the movies. And you know what? I said yes! With a bounce in my step, I got up and left. Jean-Francois and I shook hands, and he told me he looked forward to seeing me. I smiled and told him the feeling was mutual. It was three thirty in the afternoon and my shift ended at five. I left early, and asked my friend Sybil, a Jewish chick from Alberta, to cover for me. She didn't mind. She owed me big-time from the time I didn't turn her in for hooking up with a Cuban guy in the Library break room.

I went home to prepare. I was so excited. My own actions surprised me. Did I really just make a date with a Haitian guy? And Jean-Francois Poisson, of all people? Apparently so! I showered, and got ready. I put on my Black tank top and a pair of blue pants. I also applied a fresh coat of lipstick. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was dressed to kill. I left. Jean-Francois and I had agreed to meet near the Student Center.

I went there at four fifty. True to form, Jean-Francois showed up and five ten. Haitian time. I smiled. He looked good, in a bright red T-shirt and Black jeans. We smiled at each other. He looked me up and down and appeared to like what he saw. He offered me his arm, and I linked mine with his. Together, we strolled down the street. We went to Banque Scotia Montreal, the nearest movie theater. We went to see the movie Tron. To Jean-Francois immense surprise, I was really into science fiction. Why are guys so surprised to discover there are women who like science fiction and fantasy movies? I grew up watching TV series like Star-Gate, Enterprise, Hercules : The Legendary Journeys, FarScape, Angel, Buffy : The Vampire Slayer, Xena : Warrior Princess, Special Unit 2, Star Wars : The Clone Wars, The Invisible Man, Supernatural, Reaper, Smallville and Heroes. We watched the movie Tron : Legacy, and throughout the movie people kept shushing me because I told Jean-Francois all about the awesome original, starring Jeff Bridges.

Jean-Francois laughed and told me I was such a nerd. I playfully smacked his arm and told him I was a hot nerd. He looked at me, and I looked at him. I don't know why but I grabbed his face and we kissed. Quite unexpectedly too. I kissed him with a passion that surprised the both of us. And in that moment, my world changed. Was that really me, Anne-Marie Longueil, the Purelaine Quebecoise, locking lips with a handsome, cocky Haitian immigrant? Yes. And you know what? I liked it!

When our lips parted, Jean-Francois stared at me, stunned. I don't know who was more surprised. Me or him. He smiled at me, and I smiled at him. The movie was all but forgotten. We left the movie theater together, a bit weirded out by everything. Jean-Francois and I walked back to campus, talking about anything except the kiss. He wished me goodnight with a chaste kiss on the cheek, and I tapped his shoulder. Yes, I actually did that. He told me he'd call me. He wanted to take me out again. I smiled and wished him goodnight but said nothing else. Hey, I was confused, alright?

I went home that night more confused than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I kept replaying the theater scene in my mind. Had I really kissed Jean-Francois, a Haitian guy? Oh, my God! Look, I know what you're thinking. I'm not racist. I am really not. It's just that I never thought in a million years I would ever kiss a....strikingly handsome Haitian stud with the softest lips on the planet. Wow. That night, I lay in my bed, unable to sleep. I turned on the TV, only to watch a Black man and a White woman locking lips. Sean Patrick Thomas and Julia Stiles kissing in the movie Save The Last Dance. Damn. I wanted to forget what had happened between Jean-Francois and me but the universe wouldn't let me. Damn. Still, it couldn't come to be. Whatever this was, between us. We're from different worlds and romance is the last thing I needed right now.

Samuelx
Samuelx
2,122 Followers
12