Man, I have been feeling so depressed lately. My sexy Jamaican girlfriend Tasha Thomas dumped me for another guy. And I became the laughingstock of the University of Ottawa campus. When you're a young Black man of Haitian descent at a White school in Canada, it really sucks. My name is Arthur Saint Pierre. And these days, my life really sucks. I kind of hate myself right now. What's wrong with me? why can't I find a woman to love me? For most of my life, the lovely Black women I found myself attracted to have walked all over me. Why is that?
When I went home to my mother and sisters and told them that Tasha dumped me, they told me that I must have done something to deserve it. I forgot to tell you that my mother, Anne Saint Pierre, really hates men ever since my father Antoine ran off with a French Canadian woman he met in the City of Montreal. My mother's hatred for men has spread to my sisters, Jennifer and Anita. They're both students at Algonquin College and are bona-fide heartbreakers and man-haters. This is the kind of environment I have to live in. I'm surrounded by Black women who hate Black men. Is it any wonder that I can't find lasting love with a Black gal?
I have taken a serious look at myself these days. I stand six feet two inches tall and weigh two hundred and thirty pounds. I'm not a bad-looking guy. And I'm one of the brightest students at the Faculty of Engineering at the University of Ottawa. In a classroom full of White guys, White chicks and Asians, I hold my own. Hell, I outperform the best of them half the time. I get my brains from my father, who graduated from the University of Manitoba and used to teach business at La Cite Collegiale before he left Ottawa forever. My mother dropped out of Carleton University and never finished her degree. She's always bashing my dad but never acknowledges his accomplishments...or mine, for that matter.
Yeah, I was living in a toxic environment. I think that's the root of all my problems with women. That's my set pattern. I choose the meanest and most evil Black woman out there, and I worship her. And I act surprised when she treats me like dirt. That's why my relationship with Tasha Thomas didn't work. She was toxic and I stayed with her because she is toxic. Not in spite of that fact. Am I a genius or what? Man, sometimes I amaze myself. After dumping me for this South African guy, Tasha went around spreading nasty rumours about me. And all the chicks on campus, especially the Black women, looked at me with scorn. I had become a virtual social pariah during my third year at the University of Ottawa. Guys and gals alike mocked me and teased me. Isn't that awesome?
Yeah, I was depressed. I had no friends. My family was no help. And to be honest I couldn't blame all of my problems on Tasha Thomas. I have this co-dependency problem which I must get over. To that end, I went to this counsellor assigned to me by the school, Dr. Jocelyn Rock. I guess when I had a nervous breakdown in the campus library and threatened to kill myself, it made some folks nervous. Thus, I found myself mandated to be in Dr. Jocelyn Rock's office. I didn't want to be there but the school told me that if I didn't attend at least three sessions, I'd be kicked out of my program. Well, that got me to shut up and do as I was told. I didn't want to endanger my future. I want to be an Engineer so bad I can basically taste it.
And that's why I ended up in Dr. Jocelyn Rock's office. And the good doctor wasn't what I expected. She was tall, for one thing. Easily over five-foot-eleven. And she was smoking hot. A tall, blonde-haired and green-eyed, curvy White woman in her late thirties. And she looked at me impassively while we talked. I must say that she looked really good in her Black silk shirt, Black silk pants and comfortable-looking Black leather boots. I found the doctor's obvious hotness kind of distracting. I didn't let on, though. My reaction to the doctor's proximity kind of shocked me to tell you the truth.
