tagInterracial LoveBlack Men/White Women: Montreal

Black Men/White Women: Montreal


A lot of White people say that they're not racist but I'm one of the few who actually mean it. And it has cost me. My name is Shelley Lefebvre. I was born in the City of Montreal, Province of Quebec, and grew up all over the place. One of my favorite places in the world is the City of Boston, Massachusetts. I spent ten years of my life there, long enough to become a dual citizen of the United States of America and the Confederation of Canada. A lot of people make assumptions when they see me. I'm five feet eleven inches tall, slender, with platinum blonde hair and icy blue eyes. I hate it when people say I have the Aryan look. I prefer to think of myself as a Citizen of the World, rather than a White person.

While visiting my older sister Sharon at Northeastern University in the City of Boston, Massachusetts, I met someone destined to change my life forever. Kevin Lemieux. A six-foot-two, lean and muscular, absolutely beautiful young man with light brown skin, hazel eyes and curly Black hair. Kevin Lemieux was born in the City of Marseilles, Republic of France, and grew up in the United States of America. His father Eugene Azibe is West African and his mother is French. He holds dual French and American citizenship. His mother, Beatrice Lemieux, came to the United States of America in the early 1990s and has been living in the State of Massachusetts ever since. I was smitten with Kevin the moment we met. This fine-looking African-American stud who spoke fluent French and carried himself with the mannerisms and confidence of a prince.

Kevin had never met French Canadians before, and he found my way of speaking French intriguing. We became fast friends, and pretty soon we were inseparable. When I returned to the Province of Quebec in Canada, Kevin Lemieux accompanied me. He told me he always wanted to visit Canada, especially the French community. I was thrilled to have him with me. You should have seen the look of wonder and excitement on his handsome face when we visited the City of Montreal together. Even though I lived almost half my life in the City of Boston, I still consider the City of Montreal to be my favorite place in the world. I was actually considering returning to the City of Montreal these days. I recently graduated from the University of Massachusetts in the City of Amherst with my bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice. My next step would be Law school. I applied to Harvard University's School of Law and the bozos had the nerve to refuse me. All of a sudden, America looked less and less appealing to me.

The City of Montreal is home to McGill University, one of the best schools in the continent of North America. Since Harvard University's Law School doesn't want me, I'll drag my Quebecer ass back to Montreal and study at McGill University's School of Law. As we explored various fine points such as museums and fine restaurants in Montreal, I told Kevin about my plans. He seemed a bit sad because he wanted me to consider studying at Northeastern University's Law School. Kevin looked so cute and sad when he told me this. I almost felt like kissing him. Almost. Okay, I definitely felt like kissing him. However, I would be breaking my own rules. I've sworn off Black men. Why? It's kind of a long story.

Last year, I was madly in love with a tall, almost ridiculously good-looking young Black man named Sebastien Jacques. He hails from the City of Cap-Haitien in Haiti and has been living in Boston with his family for almost ten years. Sebastien played football for the University of Massachusetts at Amherst and he was like a demigod on the gridiron. A demigod with the face of an angel, the body of an Olympic athlete and, it must be said, the sexual endowments of a porn star. This six-foot-three, sensually sexy Black Adonis stole my heart. I was in love with him. When he asked me out, I almost passed out. I've always had a thing for Black men and they didn't get any finer than Sebastien. Sebastien and I dated. And we had a whirlwind romance. He forgot to tell me that his mother Marion Jacques really doesn't approve of Black male/White female relationships. And since mommy dearest didn't approve of me, our relationship was pretty much doomed. After eleven months together, Sebastien dumped me for a big-booty Jamaican slut named Veronique something or other.

Black men are sexy, and they're irresistible to women of all races. However, they're T.R.O.U.B.L.E. That's what I learned from my relationship with Sebastien Jacques. I also learned that racism cuts both ways. In the movies, they often show White people who oppose Black/White romance. Well, in real life, many Black people oppose Black/White romance, especially if it's a situation involving a Black man and a White lady. Black women can't stand to see Black guys with women who look like me and that's the awful truth. Of course, the biased media never shows it that way. Racism must be a White against Black thing, White guilt and Black innocence. As a White chick who's had her heart broken by a gutless Black guy and his racist mother, I can tell you that it's politically correct bullshit.

Yeah, every time I let a Black man get close to me, he hurts me. I can't let myself develop feelings for Kevin Lemieux. I just can't. And my problem is that I'm just not feeling White guys. They don't do it for me sexually or physically. I'm not attracted to them. Growing up, I had posters of Will Smith, Tyson Beckford and Kobe Bryant on my bedroom, not Brad Pitt or George Clooney. Sorry, mom and dad. What's a ( White) gal to do in a situation like this? Looking into Kevin Lemieux's almost puppy-like eyes, I decided to tell him the truth. I told him about me and Sebastien, and other Black guys like him. Irresistible chocolate studs who broke my heart for one reason or another. I told Kevin my sad story, and waited for his response.

Kevin looked at me, and for a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then he gently took me into his arms. Gently, he hugged me. I froze. What's happening? Kevin held me close, and told me not to worry. He whispered into my ears these simple but meaningful words. I am not like the others. That's what he said. I looked into his eyes, and saw nothing but honesty there. Honesty, and something else. Something powerful, and tender. Kevin gently kissed me on the forehead, and then wished me goodnight. I stood there, stunned. What just happened? I went home, my head spinning and my heart thundering in my chest. As I lay in my bed, unable to sleep, I thought of Kevin. His handsome face. His fine light brown skin. His smooth, sexy lips. Hmm. I wonder how his lips would feel against my own. Damn. I'm doing it again. Fantasizing about another fine Black man. I want Kevin. I must have him. As soon as possible. I can't help it. Fuck! See? I told you that Black guys are trouble!

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