Countless hours browsing the web for the kind of videos and images I knew I wouldn't find. No one caters to my own unique brand of kink. There simply aren't any BDSM websites out there which cater to people of African descent. My name is Jarvis Roger Mondesir. My friends call me J.R. I was born in the City of Jacmel in the Republic of Haiti, and moved with my family eleven years ago to the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. The Capital region of Canada has been our home ever since. I am twenty three years old, and recently graduated from the University of Ottawa's Telfer MBA program. I graduated in the top five percent of my class. How cool is that?
Now, for most recent graduates of Colleges and Universities across North America, finding a job in your field is quite hard. We are in the last dregs of a Recession, after all. For months before graduation, I worried about becoming one of those highly educated minority guys and gals you see working at Tim Horton's restaurant even though they hold MBAs and MFAs from Canada's top schools. Thanks to one of my former professors, I was able to parlay an internship with the Canadian Revenue Agency into a full-time entry level position. Let's just say it pays to be connected. I'm now on the Board of Business Development at the downtown branch of the C.R.A. Not bad for a poor guy from Haiti, eh?
Unfortunately, professional success doesn't always mean happiness in one's personal life. In fact, quite often it means just the opposite. A lot of people are always saying that if you're a good-looking, educated Black man with a good job, the sisters are going to flock to you. Hmm. I'm six-foot-one by 240 pounds. I've got a solid, muscular form acquired through many years of playing soccer at the high school and University level. I am disease-free, and live in a nice, middle-class neighborhood in the Barrhaven sector of Ottawa. I made one hundred and eleven thousand dollars last year, after taxes. I drive a bright red Mercedes. So why am I alone? I can't blame it on work. I work nine hours a day, five days a week. My weekends belong to me. I've got no excuse. I guess I'm alone because deep down, I want to be. Don't tell that to my folks, though. They are under the impression that my life is perfect. My parents, Wilson and Janine Mondesir are currently enjoying an all-expenses paid vacation in the island of Cuba, deep in the Caribbean. I gave them this little outing as a present for all the good things they've done for me ever since I could remember.
Family is everything, you know? Sometimes I envy my parents. They met in Haiti, where family life is much simpler. We're a Christian household with old-fashioned values. In North America, things are much more complicated between men and women. We can't even talk to each other freely at work, even though we live in the land of freedom. My Arab friend Abu works for the Ontario Ministry of Finance and he tells me that he would never marry a Canadian woman, even though he tends to date tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed women from the French Canadian community. I jokingly tease him about having a thing for 'Infidel women' and he sometimes gets mad about that. I think he's confused about what he wants. Abu's parents live in the City of Mecca, crown jewel of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. He's expected to return home at some point and marry a nice Saudi gal. I wish him the best of luck with his life choices. If only things were that simple for me.
The Haitian community of Canada grows by leaps and bounds. We are quite numerous, for one thing. You'll see tons of us in places like Ottawa and Toronto in provincial Ontario, Montreal and Laval in provincial Quebec, Edmonton and Calgary in provincial Alberta, and even Halifax and Preston in the province of Nova Scotia. We're quite entrepreneurial, which explains our success at nearly all levels of Canadian society. In another hundred years, the Haitians will probably run Canada. I'm just kidding. Or am I? I travel frequently to Boston, my favorite town in the United States of America. Boston is the Capital of the State of Massachusetts, and the home of a sizable community of Haitian-Americans. What I love about that town is how racially diverse and progressive it is. Also, the Governor of Massachusetts is a Black man and he lives in Boston. How cool is that?
Anyhow, in all my travels, I've yet to find what I want. What I want is a Black woman. But not just any Black woman. She must be beautiful, smart and understanding. And she must accept me for who and what I am. For I am more than just a tall, decent-looking brother with a government job, a nice salary and a nice car. I'm also a vulnerable human being on a quest to find a kindred spirit. A like mind. A kindred soul. A shadow self. My other half. Sorry, I used to be a poet back in the day. I guess some traces of it still remain within me even though the last time I actually wrote a poem, George W. Bush still ran the States and dear old Iggy still thought he would be Prime Minister of Canada someday.
So here I am. Sitting in my living room in my house in Barrhaven. Browsing through countless spots online. Men in Pain. Divine Bitches. Vicious Vixens. And the list goes on. Sometimes, I see echoes of what I might be looking for. Black men getting fucked by women wearing strap-on dildos. Always White women and Hispanic women, never Black women. Sometimes I see Black women wearing strap-on dildos and banging White men and occasionally Hispanic men and Asian men. You'll never see a Black woman banging a Black man with a strap-on dildo on one of those so-called BDSM websites. Yeah, nobody caters to my unique fetish. I finally enter this forum where apparently minorities who are into BDSM are welcome. I log on, create a profile as BlackBro1986 and post a slightly blurry picture of myself wearing sunglasses and a business suit. I go to bed. It's Friday night and I don't feel like going out.
