Alright, I might as well confess at this point. I've got a thing for "mature" Somali women I see walking around wearing the Hijab and those traditional long skirts they wear. Every time I see one I get an instant boner. There, I said it. So why don't I feel better? As I sat inside Dr. Fawzia Hassan's office in downtown Ottawa, Ontario, I felt frustrated like you would not believe. Seriously, man, I think I'm just about ready to snap.
I'd been coming to the good doctor's office for weekly appointments for the past month so and honestly, I don't feel like I'm making any progress. To me this stuff seems boring and pointless. Just what am I supposed to solve by talking about my feelings anyway? Sounds like some sissy shit if you ask me. Oh, snap. In all the excitement I almost forgot to introduce myself. The name is Elijah Montgomery and I'm a young biracial man living in the Canadian Capital. I studied criminal justice at Algonquin College and nowadays I work in the field of private law enforcement. Oh, and I'm a sex addict. There, I said it.
Sitting across from the good doctor, I sighed wistfully. Lately sex has been getting me in trouble, man. I work as an armored vehicle security guard at various locations and while working at this museum vault one night, I met this hot-looking Arab chick named Fatouma Khaled. I hit on her, like I hit on almost every hot chick I happen to spot without male company. It didn't go over too well since Fatouma is the supervisor of the armed security team at that site. Don't hit on the boss, fellas. It only works in the movies. I should have heeded that advice. I almost got fired, but the security union agreed to pay for me to get counseling, since the higher-ups are convinced I've got a problem. And that, my friends, is how I ended up in the good doctor's office.
What can I do to change my behavior, doc? I asked, feeling frustrated and angry. You're a deeply troubled young man, Dr. Fawzia Hassan said in that same monotonous voice she always used with me. The good doctor stands five-foot-nine, chubby and dark-skinned, with an average face and a big round ass. Dressed in a classy-looking silver pantsuit and off-white hijab, she looked pretty stylish. Her educational credentials, bachelor's degree in psychology from Carleton University, Master's degree from the University of Ottawa, proudly hung on her wall. I've never said I was anything but, I shrugged. Sometimes I honestly think this woman is wasting my time.
I don't believe in shrinks, to be honest with you. They always say the same shit to me, that I've got abandonment issues because my biological parents abandoned me in a subway station in the City of Toronto when I was in the fifth grade. They've never been seen again. I am biracial, like I said before. My father is Jamaican and my mother is Irish. I don't remember much else about them besides their names, Elias Montgomery and Deirdre O'Neill-Montgomery. I've often wondered what kind of parent would leave their son at the ticket office of a subway station and just take off. Maybe that's why I've got issues with women. I sleep with a lot of them but I don't let myself get attached. Could it because my mother abandoned me? Hmmm. I hate thinking about that shit. See? That's why I hate shrinks.
