Every time I see her, my heart still flutters. She's so damn gorgeous. Six feet tall and absolutely sexy, with dark brown skin, long braided hair, and an athletic body. Everything on her is gorgeous, from her pretty face to her curvy and strong body and killer rack, and don't get me started on that big round butt. Tina Brandon. My darling girlfriend. The sexy Jamaican-Canadian lady I first glimpsed while visiting my cousin's Church in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. The funny thing is that I'm usually not into women, but something about Tina Brandon just pulled me in. I asked around about her and I must say that I liked what I heard.
Tina Brandon was born on November 8, 1983, in the City of Barrie, Ontario, to Jamaican immigrant parents. The proud daughter of Jasmine and George Brandon, who moved to the Confederation of Canada from the island of Jamaica two years before her birth. Like so many Afro-Caribbean immigrants, she came from good stock and was born to shine. Tina graduated from Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Ontario, with a bachelor's degree in communications in 2004, and earned her MBA from the University of Toronto in 2007. Since then, she's been working for the Canadian government as an auditor for the Canadian Revenue Agency. Wow, I must say that I was impressed.
At the time that I started attending this nondenominational and very informal Church near downtown Ottawa, I was going through a lot. Working as a security guard while attending Criminology classes at Carleton University was taking its toll on my mind and body. Oh, and my relationship with my boyfriend Suleiman Hussein reached a breaking point. I met Suleiman in 2010, three months after I moved to provincial Ontario from the State of Massachusetts. I grew up in the City of Boston, crown jewel of New England, but I wasn't born there. Nope, I was born on January 31, 1986, in the town of Quartier Morin in the Republic of Haiti. My parents, franklin and Jeannine Bertrand moved to Massachusetts from Haiti in the summer of 1999. By 2006, I had become a naturalized citizen of the United States, though I never felt like I belonged there.
In 2009, I flunked out of the fabled Northeastern University, and my exasperated parents asked me to move out. I found myself on my own for the first time, and had to get a job. One day, my cousin Wilfred came to visit. Wilfred is my father's brother Leonard's son. He's half Black and half White, and talks with a thick Canadian accent. We've gotten along famously since we were small, in spite of our obvious differences. When Wilfred came to visit us in Boston in the summer of 2009, he stayed with me in my crummy little apartment in Dorchester. Wilfred and I have always been cool, and he was the first person I came out to when I realized that I was bisexual. He's the one who suggested I give life in Ontario a try since I fucked up so badly in Massachusetts. My grades at Northeastern University were so bad that not even second-rate schools like the University of Massachusetts in Boston or Bridgewater State University would have me. Yeah, it looked like it was time for a change of scenery. I applied for my passport, got a Canadian visa, and moved to Canada, with Wilfred as my sponsor.
Wilfred helped me adjust to my new life in the Confederation of Canada. He'd recently graduated from the University of Ottawa's Telfer School of Business and was making his mark in the private sector. He assured me his country was the land of opportunity. On the surface, Canada and America have a lot in common but they're two completely different countries, man. Different cultures, different mentalities, different everything. Even though I used to visit Wilfred's family in Ontario every summer, nothing prepared me for how different life in Canada as an American citizen would turn out to be. In order to get a job in Canada, you need a valid work permit, and a social insurance number, which is the Canadian equivalent of a social security number, I think. I applied for these things with the Canadian Immigration Bureau, and eventually got them. I got a job working security, after obtaining my Ontario security guard licence, and began saving up for school.
I applied to Carleton University as an international student, got in, and requested for Northeastern University to send in my transcript. Cost me some green but it was worth it. Thus began my higher education journey in Canada. I was twenty four years old, and starting as a second-year student at Carleton University when I knew I should have been in my third year was kind of vexing, but I've always been the kind of guy who rolls with the punches rather than succumb. I just learned to deal, that's all. Wilfred and I got along great, but I wanted my own place. I found a four-hundred-dollar a month one-bedroom apartment in the east end of Ottawa, in an area called Vanier. I moved in, and started my life anew.
While walking through the Carleton University library one afternoon, I saw this tall, broad-shouldered and absolutely fine-looking Black guy looking at me. He smiled at me and introduced himself. Suleiman Hussein. A big Muslim guy from Somaliland. He was studying business administration at Carleton University while playing rugby for the school. I've always had a thing for big and tall guys and at six-foot-four, Suleiman definitely fit the bill. I'm around five-foot-ten, slim and fit, with light brown skin and curly Black hair. My eyes are light bronze. People always ask me if I am mixed but I always tell them that I am one hundred percent Black. My skin and eye color result from the fact that my mom is half Black and half White, on her French father's side. I had been living life a hermit since I moved to Canada. All I did was go to work, school and Church. Then along came Suleiman, the handsome Somali stud who injected excitement into my life.
