Ethiopian Women Are Simply Divine

With the summer of 2013 around the corner, the hunt is on for the biggest, meanest and most beautiful butt in town. I smile to myself as I spotted my latest target. The owner of said booty is this tall, curvy, dark-skinned sister I spotted walking through the Carleton University library on a fine Monday morning in mid-March.

I saw her practically sashaying that magnificent booty from side to side as she made her way to the printer, and fiddled with the machine which for some reason wouldn't take her student card. The arrival of Miss Booty at the machine hadn't gone unnoticed by the local brothers, who sat at nearby computers, pretending not to notice her. When she bent down to pick up her fallen card, I leapt to my feet, and decided to 'help a sister out'.

Hello, I said with a smile, trying my best to appear friendly and nonthreatening, not an easy feat for a six-foot-two, burly brother with a dark complexion. Miss Booty smiled at me, and told me she was having trouble with the machine. I noticed that she had an easy smile. This gal was beautiful with a capital B. She was around five-foot-eleven, busty and curvy, with light brown skin, long curly Black hair and light brown eyes. Clad in a red sweatshirt and blue jeans, she looked pretty damn good. I took out my card and swiped it, then smiled at her and told her to just go ahead and print her stuff.

My generosity seemed to surprise her, for she seemed taken aback. I smiled and innocently told her I was just being a good Samaritan. She nodded, and thanked me for my help as the printers began releasing her papers. That's a lot of papers, I noted after the fifth one came out. Miss Booty smiled and told me criminology majors like her had a ton of papers to write.

Before I could stop myself, I heard myself tell her how much I liked criminology, which prompted her to ask whether it was my major. I shook my head. Truth be told, I'm a civil engineering guy. I'm all about the mathematics in everything in this life. Criminology to me is a lot of nonsense, at least until you get to the forensics part, which I can actually wrap my head around.

Miss Booty looked me up and down, then told me how pleasantly surprised she was to meet a brother in the sciences. I extended my hand, and introduced myself. I felt tempted to say something corny like "Raphael Dorvil, Haitian-Canadian gentleman at your service" but settled for simply telling her my name. Black women don't go for the over-the-top stuff anymore. Miss Booty introduced herself as Bethlehem Amare, and I noted that her handshake was warm, pleasant and firm. Indeed, it was a pleasure to meet her.

After a few minutes chatting with Bethlehem, I gleaned quite a bit about her. She came from Ethiopia, and was new to Ontario. After this nice little interlude, I wished her a good day and returned to my seat. I hadn't gotten her number, or her Facebook. I felt lousy about the whole thing for sure. A pretty gal like that, tall and curvy with a derriere that just won't quit, she's not going to be single for long. If she even was.

I went back to WebCT to resume my work, still bristling at myself for an opportunity wasted. Now, I date women of all races and I don't limit myself at all in the dating game but I have a weakness for tall sisters from the African motherland. I've been seeing a lot of Haitian sisters with African guys lately. Haitian guys like myself either stick with our Haitian women or we date white women. Black women from other countries don't seem to be too interested in us, though I've seen a couple of Haitian brothers with Jamaican women and Nigerian women.

I got up to go to the washroom because the Tim Horton's coffee I drank two hours ago apparently went right through me. I took a leak, washed my hands and exited. As I started walking back to my seat, guess who I saw sitting next to me. Miss Booty, um, I mean Bethlehem Amare. The tall, fine-ass Black chick from Ethiopia. I smiled at her and asked her what she was doing there. She grinned and told me the PC at which she sat earlier was slow and the one next to me was available. I smiled as I bit down the urge to tell her that I am available.

Hell, I've been available for a while. Two months ago, I ended a relationship with Roseanne Battles, a tall, red-haired and green-eyed British chick I met around December. Roseanne was adventurous and fun in bed, but she also had anger issues and a nasty habit of cancelling our dates an hour before we were supposed to meet. I only let a chick do that twice before I get fed up. I told her I didn't want to see her anymore and she actually threw something at me. Why am I a magnet for crazy women?

I smiled at Bethlehem, and pretended not to be too eager. Okay, so how do I ask her for her number and/or her Facebook without being too obvious about it? Come on, man, think! Bethlehem smiled at me, then took out her cell phone. What's your number? She asked me, flashing that fearless smile for good measure. I grinned happily as I told her my digits. Man, I'm in like Flynn, as they say! Bethlehem got up from her seat, gently touched my shoulder and wished me a good day. I waved her goodbye as she winked at me before walking away.

I watched her fantastic booty sway side to side in them tight blue jeans like a pendulum of temptation. My phone buzzed and I checked it, grinning as I realized the text came from Bethlehem. Good to meet you handsome, that's all she wrote. I smiled, mentally patting myself on the back for a job well done. I was still doing that when I got a second text from Bethlehem. Don't be so obvious when checking out a gal's ass, us girls like attention but booty gawking can be a bit too much. Her words, not mine, folks. I laughed as I replied to her. Can't blame a brother for trying, right?