You'll never know what hit you, I thought to myself as I smiled at Yasmin Khaled as we sat together inside the Eaton Center food court in downtown Toronto, Ontario. We just had coffee, and the six-foot-tall, pretty Hijabi from Somalia broke her own rules first by holding my hand and second, by allowing me to kiss her. I mean to get her into bed as soon as possible. I chase Hijab-wearing chicks and I seduce them and sleep with them. Tis what I am all about. The name is Dylan Bertrand, but you may call me the Hijab Hunter.
Anyone looking at me would see a six-foot-three, lean and athletic young man with dark brown skin and stylish dreadlocks. I was born in the town of Mississauga, Ontario, to a Haitian immigrant father, Jacques Bertrand and a white Canadian mother, Muriel Tremblay. These days, I'm studying criminal justice at the University of Toronto, and hope to get into law school someday. When I'm not in class, I'm chasing Hijab-wearing chicks left and right. I got a thing for them, folks. I can't explain it. Lucky for me, quite often, they respond to my advances.
After breakfast, I took Yasmin Khaled to the movies, and we watched The Hunger Games. Not my kind of movie. I'm more of a Divergent fan, but you got to keep the ladies happy if you want to get within even sniffing distance of their goodies. Ironically, Yasmin and I met at the movies, four weeks ago. You see, lots of Hijab-wearing Muslim chicks go to the movies with their female friends and look enviously at "normal" girls who are at the movies with their boyfriends. I like to capitalize on that.
You have to understand that a woman is a woman, regardless of religion or culture. All women want a guy who cares, and wants to take care of them. A lot of people tend to forget that Hijab-wearing Muslim girls are, well, women, when dealing with them. They think of them as another species altogether. With their myriad rules and codes of conduct, the Muslim ladies certainly don't make it easy for themselves.
Guys simply don't approach them because they think all a Muslim gal who wears the Hijab wants to do is pray and get married, that's it. They oversimplify these lovely Muslim ladies and deny both their womanhood and their very humanity. They don't think these ladies want to be wined and dined ( figure of speech about the wine part ) and dated and romanced and all that jazz. And that's their loss if you ask me. I treat a Hijab-wearing Muslim gal like I would any woman. With respect, and charm, and wit. The results are usually impressive. Treat a woman right and she'll usually treat you in kind. Doesn't take a bloody genius to figure that one out, eh?
Anyhow, where was I? Oh yes, dear reader. I was about to tell you about how I met Yasmin Khaled, the tall, curvaceous and sinfully sexy yet innocent-looking Somali Hijabi. I was coming out of the movies, on the prowl as usual, when I saw some chubby older white dude shove his way past the lady in question, actually bumping her pretty hard, judging by the way she rubbed her elbow afterwards.
I'm no angel and heaven knows I like to lie, cheat, steal and sleep around but one thing I don't do is hurt the female of the species. It takes a special kind of brutish son of a bitch to do that and, well, that's not me. Not by a long shot. In a display of chivalry, I went after the old white dude and confronted him for bumping the lady, and he looked at me, saw that I was an angry young black male, and mumbled an apology, lest I kick his tubby white ass.
After the tubby white bozo took off, I approached the Hijabi and asked her if she was okay, then I apologized to her for the dude's uncouth actions. The tall, pretty Somali gal with the angelic face smiled shyly at me and thanked me, then she asked me my name. Dylan Bertrand of Mississauga, I said, gently bowing my head. The lady folded her hands, nodded gracefully, and introduced herself as Yasmin Khaled. Thus we were formally introduced, and the rest, as they say, was history.
Yasmin Khaled and I come from different worlds, but we definitely had more in common than I would have thought. For starters, we're both biracial. I consider myself black because that's how I was raised but with my light brown skin, curly hair and pale brown eyes, I am often asked if I am mixed. I guess it's because I am technically mixed, but I embrace my blackness.
The lovely Miss Yasmin Khaled was born in the environs of Ajax, Ontario, to a Somali immigrant father, Ali Khaled, and Karen "Khadija" Vincent-Khaled, a white Canadian mother who converted to the religion of Islam. I had honestly never heard of a Somali Muslim man marrying a white Canadian woman. From what I know of them, the Somali community pretty much shuns all others. Somalis usually marry other Somalis, or they marry Arabs on occasion. Yasmin definitely got the best of both worlds if you ask me. The gal was simply lovely. With her angelic face and sweet eyes, Yasmin tends to make my heart skip a beat when she looks my way. If I'm not careful, I could fall in love with her. Falling in love is the one thing I don't do.
