Arab Lady For Cute Black Guys

All around the restaurant, people were staring at us. A bunch of well-dressed Canadians enjoying some nice Italian food on a Friday afternoon, and they were unexpectedly treated to both dinner AND a show. I shook my head, thanked the Suleiman family for coming and gestured the waitress to come because I was ready to pay and bounce. I am sorry, I said to Alisha, who sat there, teary-eyed. Keeping my eyes on Victor Suleiman the entire time, I took Alisha's hand in mine and kissed it. Then I got up, took out my CIBC debit card and paid before walking about. And this, ladies and gentlemen, was the last time I laid eyes on any members of the Suleiman family.

When I walked out of the mall I honestly felt like crying. I walked around the mall a bit, and someone hailed me. A little old white lady approached me and I stared at her, wondering what she wanted. She told me she saw how the Arab family treated me in that restaurant, and said they had no right to do that. I smiled and shrugged, thanked her for saying that and then made my way to the bus station located right next to the mall. I caught the number seven bus heading from Saint Laurent Mall to Carleton University. My phone buzzed, and I got a text from Robert. He sent me a picture of him and his French-Canadian girlfriend Sabrina at the movies, posing in front of a poster of the upcoming movie The Wolverine. I smiled and texted him that all was fine, then I turned off my phone and headed home.

That night, I went home and did something I wouldn't normally do. I availed myself of Robert's extensive beer and wine collection, downing three bottles of Molson Canadian and one Heineken. At some point that night, I got a call from my father. We, um, had words. In hindsight, I should have been more polite and congenial when speaking to my father, the man who is financing my rather expensive studies abroad. Yeah, but I was in a lousy mood. I'd already been given the short end of the stick by one patriarchal Arab and was in no mood to hear crap from another one in such a short amount of time. That's why I kind of told him where to stuff it. The next day, I found out I would no longer receive any financial support from him.

What's a guy to do? Still distraught over losing Alisha, I couldn't care less about my father's antics. Besides, he's always yelling at me for one thing or another, so having him pissed off at me was nothing new. The next week, however, I got an email from the Business Office and they informed me that the monies I paid them for the second semester had vanished. We were in late November and I was flat broke, and since I'm an international student, I can't apply for OSAP financial aid like Canadian students can. Robert offered me some help. He showed me how to apply for a work permit. I got my work permit in the mail after a few weeks, along with a social insurance number. With those things in hand, I looked for a job. Even for a lousy job like shelf case filler at Loblaw's supermarket I had to have a resume. I ended up working at a Loblaw's in downtown Ottawa.

How the mighty have fallen. I came to Carleton University as a well-to-do international student, all expenses paid, and my father would send me twelve hundred dollars a month as allowance money on top of paying for my studies and room and board. Well, now I'm on my own. I moved out of the campus residence and got myself a one-bedroom apartment in Vanier. I worked tirelessly and managed to save about two thousand dollars, enough to pay for one course come January 2013. You see, international students pay three times what Canadian students pay. Without any financial support from my father, I couldn't afford to take a full course load for the second semester like I intended. It's hell, man. Working forty hours a week while going to class at the same time. Still, it's things like that which either make or break a man. Canada won't break me. My father won't break me. Like the damn song says, I will survive. Robert and I still hang out sometime. He recently split with Sabrina the French-Canadian chick and he's dating an Ethiopian gal named Magdalene now. Apparently he met her while visiting a church in Orleans. She goes to La Cite Collegiale. I wish him the best of luck with her. Me? I'm through with sex and romance for a while. I'm too busy trying to keep a roof over my head and paying for tuition and groceries. Yeah, I kept busy. Do I miss Alisha Suleiman? Do I think about her charm and wit, her killer body, and that smile? Only a lot, but I've got to move on.

So here I am, a nineteen-year-old Afro-Arabian man living in Ottawa, Ontario. I'm a part-time student at Carleton University in the civil engineering program, and a full-time minion of Loblaw's in downtown Ottawa. Although my stern Saudi father basically disowned my ass ( my drinking and fussing over a Lebanese Christian gal didn't impress him as a potential heir), I'm still a citizen of Saudi Arabia. My faith matters to me, but I'm not the most religious sort these days. I've grown fond of wine, women and song, as the saying goes. I'm not looking for sex or romance, like I said before, but I've made some rather interesting friends, if you know what I mean.

Friends like my fellow civil engineering student Kelly Sanchez, a tall, bronze-skinned, curvy and big-bottomed Mexican gal I met while hanging out with Robert at a club downtown. I'd seen her around Carleton University and I remember thinking she looks Arab, that was my first thought when I saw her but she's not. She's a feisty Latina who's made no bones about her rather sexual interest in me. We've hooked up a few times and this woman is something else, I tell you! I've also started exploring my bisexuality again. Had some discrete encounters with some guys I met in the club right under their girlfriends noses. No worries, I always use condoms. For everything. Anonymous sex doesn't have to be unsafe sex. Yeah, that's about it. Life goes on, I guess. Anyhow, that's how year one went for me in North America. I'm a bisexual Muslim man from Saudi Arabia living in the Canadian capital. Now you've seen everything. If you folks will excuse me, I've got to get back to work. These shelves aren't going to stack themselves, unlike my gal Kelly. Okay, bad joke. I'm out of here!