tagInterracial LoveHow I Met Your Father

How I Met Your Father


My name is Linda La-Patience. I'm a young woman of French-Canadian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born in the town of Montreal, Quebec, but Ontario has been my home for a long time. I stand five-foot-seven, slender and wiry, with long Black hair, alabaster skin and pale green eyes. How I met my husband is one for the ages. I met him at a very difficult time in my life. After the death of my parents, I became self-destructive. Somehow, I ended up in a mental hospital. A place where I endured endless torment at the hands of abusive, misanthropic nurses. It's also where I met Christopher Stephens, the young man who would come to mean so much to me. He was working as a security guard at the hospital's mental ward at the time.

My days were dreary and dull, filled with my encounters with the Ontario healthcare system's worst people. I think a lot of women and men get into nursing for the money and not because it's their true avocation. As a result, many of them are chronically bored or apathetic, and really don't give a damn about their patients. At one of Ottawa's supposedly world class hospitals, I ended up in the care of some very mean ladies. I'm not going to lie, I was a difficult patient. I liked to curse, and I was feisty as hell. I don't believe in backing down before anyone. I'm a Montreal woman for crying out loud, though I spent most of my life in the Province of Ontario. The nurses found me to be a handful. Especially since I spoke up for other patients when they got mistreated.

One day, someone new walked into the ward. Someone who was destined to change things. Christopher Stephens. Picture this, if you will. A six-foot-one, slightly chubby but still handsome young man with dark brown skin, wavy Black hair and dopey-sweet brown eyes. My Christopher. He looked really good in his security uniform. Out of all the guards who get assigned to the hospital's mental ward, he was the most human. He was always polite and friendly. And he seemed genuinely nice to everybody. A lot of the guards are either eager brutes who love wrestling down patients whenever the nurses tell them to keep us in line, or they're terrified of us because we're mental patients and all. Well, Christopher wasn't like that. He didn't fit into either category. The guy actually acted like a voice of reason between frustrated patients and angry nurses. And nine times out of ten, he got results. I found that fascinating about him. He wasn't just muscle. The guy had mind, and heart.

One day, our eyes met and although he tried to hide it, I knew I caught his attention. Christopher got assigned to the mental ward nearly every night, and sometimes we would talk. He told me he was studying Law at Carleton University. He had an accent I couldn't place, and I soon figured out why. Christopher Stephens was American, not Canadian. He'd been living in Ontario for a couple of years but he was raised in Boston, Massachusetts. His father is African-American but his mother came from the Caribbean island of Haiti. He considered himself Haitian-American. I found that really cool. It's not like I never met Americans before but I had no idea there were Black American students studying in Canada. Christopher told me that with the economy in the crapper in his hometown of Boston, his parents decided to send him to study abroad. He had an uncle and aunt living in the town of Orleans, Ontario. It was decided that he would stay with them while studying at Carleton University.

I found myself fascinated by this young Black American man. He was nothing like I imagined a Black American guy would be like. No, I'm not racist and I don't believe in stereotypes. However, media images to influence our views. I never saw a Black American guy on television who wasn't loud, outspoken and assertive. Christopher was shy and easygoing rather than loud and bossy. Wow. I really got to get out more, eh? Christopher and I were really getting along. A shame about the circumstances in which we met because I found him really cute. I like big guys who are really shy and gentle. They're like big teddy bears. That's what Christopher seemed like to me. A big teddy bear. He was cute and brown and everything! I found him really easy to talk to. He was a great listener who never pressured you. The nurses didn't like it when we talked but he ignored them. Much to my delight.

Over the course of several nights, Christopher became my confidant. I even told him about my parents deaths. Basically, my mother Beatrice Ducharme La-Patience caught my father George La-Patience in the arms of another man, an Arab guy named Ahmed or something. I forgot to mention that my mom was a Constable with the Ottawa Police Service and one hell of a markswoman. She put two bullets into my dear old pop and his boyfriend. And then she took her own life. The story was front page news across the Confederation of Canada. I was in my second year at the University of Ottawa at the time my world went to hell. You look me straight in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have gone nuts too! Christopher was totally understanding of my circumstances. He didn't give me a fake smile of sympathy like some people did. He was totally empathetic. I found that a really human thing about him. He was a really awesome guy.

I mentioned before that the nurses at the hospital didn't approve of my talking with Christopher. Well, one day they went further than just giving us dirty looks as we talked. I was attacked by this tall guy who had some severe mental problems. He was autistic but kind of violent. Most autistic people I heard of were really gentle unless provoked or threatened. Not this one. He liked smacking people around. Considering the fact that he was six feet seven inches tall and weighed three hundred and forty pounds, that made him quite dangerous. Even the nurses and security guards were afraid of him. Well, one day he came after me. I defended myself as best as I could with a plastic knife. He ended up maimed. For life. Not my fault. I tried to reason with him but the bastard wanted to strangle me. It was self-defence, alright? Yep. Guess what the evil bitchy nurses did? They called security on me and put me under round-the-clock watch. Every eight hours the security guard shifts changed. The first person who guarded me was a mean little Hispanic woman. The second guard was a tall white guy with a crew cut who called me a psycho bitch. I slapped him so hard my hand hurt. The third security guard was none other than Christopher. He was stunned to discover that I was the person he'd been assigned to watch. I looked at him and shrugged.

Christopher was visibly troubled by the fact that he had to guard me. He'd guarded a hundred patients in the mental ward, just never anyone he knew personally or had befriended. I was happy to see him, though. Finally someone would hear my side of the story. I told Christopher what happened and he believed me. The poor guy. He was extra nice to me that night. He let me walk wherever I wanted, and even got me a magazine. A copy of Elle Canada, with a picture of my favorite Canadian singer on the cover. I shared some of my apple juice with Christopher, and we talked. The nurses came, and chastised him for talking to me and being way too nice. He stood up to them. I was stunned. I had no idea he would stand up to them on my behalf. The exasperated head nurse called the security guards downstairs and asked that Christopher be replaced. Before he left, Christopher wrote his cell phone number and email address in the magazine he gave me. I discreetly put it away. Then his fellow security guards asked him to leave, and a chubby white guy in a security uniform replaced my good friend Christopher. I was crestfallen. I sure hope Christopher didn't get himself in trouble over me. It's always the nice guys who pay the price, you know?

I spent two more months inside the mental ward. I told the doctors and nurses what they wanted to hear so I could get released. As soon as I got out, my first stop was to access a computer. I looked Christopher up on Facebook. There he was, my tall, dark and handsome African-American stud. My hero. I sent him a friend request. He replied almost right away. How cool was that? I told him that I was a free woman. He came to pick me up. We went to a Tim Horton's restaurant and chatted. My favorite guy in the world sat me down and we talked for hours. I'm serious, man. We walked into the restaurant at noon and left at three! Christopher helped me with a lot of stuff afterwards. He helped me talk to my old landlord. Since I always paid two months in advance, he forgave the fact that I was away for so long. I still had my apartment! Of course, the place hadn't been cleaned in months. Luckily, my dog Marquis had been taken in my friend Elisabeth Wong, a chubby Asian gal from the City of Calgary, Alberta. Slowly, I began to put my life back together. I had an incomplete in my sociology classes at the University of Ottawa. I had a lot of work to catch up on as I signed up for the second semester. With Christopher helping me, I felt like I could do anything.

A month after I was released from the Ottawa mental hospital, I was doing well. I was back in school, for one. I got a job waitressing at an Irish pub in the evenings and went to class during the day. Christopher told me that he quit working for the hospital security team. They hadn't fired him like I thought they would after he refused to play henchman for the abusive nurses in the psych ward. He told me he was tired of being hired muscle for abusive people. I smiled at that. He's such a good guy. Christopher and I were basically inseparable after the horrifying ordeal we both went through. I cared for him a great deal and I knew he cared for me but neither of us seemed ready to cross the line. I knew he was into me. The guy looked at my butt more than I felt was socially acceptable. A habit he would continue to have for many years into the future.

One day, I went to visit him at Carleton University. We grabbed a bite inside the University Center's restaurant. Christopher looked really cute in a New England Patriots jacket over a red silk shirt, Black jeans and Timberland boots. I looked pretty hot in a white blouse, black skirt and leggings. We were just grabbing a bite when I noticed he had a small crumb on his lower lip. I discreetly pointed it out to him but he couldn't seem to take it off. I leaned closer to help him out....our eyes met...and that's when I kissed him. Yep, I kissed him first! Our first kiss was sweet. Christopher has sweet lips. He's a gentle kisser whereas I'm more forceful. He likes to go with the flow and I'm kind of bossy. I'm a true Scorpio woman and he's a laid back Aquarius. After our first kiss, he looked at me and smiled. I smiled and shrugged. Gently, he squeezed my hand. We left the campus hand in hand, and went back to my place.

Christopher and I became an item that very first day. My American stud has a deliciously hot body. I like a fleshy build on my guys. And I don't mean to sound stereotypical but he's well-endowed. When we make love, it's definitely passionate. The first time we hooked up, I nearly killed him. I took him to my place and ripped his clothes off. Keep in mind I hadn't gotten laid in ages. All my sexual frustration and longing came rushing out like a damn flood. I kissed Christopher fiercely, and played with his chest hairs while stroking his thick, uncircumcised dick. I licked him from head to toe, grabbed his ass and bit his nipples. Then I made my way down to his groin and basically latched onto his member. I began sucking him as if he was pumping life into me. Christopher moaned as I worked him over. He hadn't seen anything yet. For hours on end, we explored each other's bodies. Christopher was really good at eating pussy. A fact that I found to be a pleasant surprise. A lot of guys will barely stick their tongue and fingers inside a woman and then they turn around and expect her to suck them till they're ready to burst. Sorry, guys. Doesn't work like that. Turnabout is fair play. To receive, you must first give. And my Christopher was a giver. He licked my pussy, teased it and probed it. He sucked my clitoris, worked his fingers inside of me, blew on my pussy, spat on it, smacked it and totally worked it over. The guy had me screaming in English, French and Profane!

I was horny as hell and ready for more. I ripped into a pack of Lifestyle Condoms and put one on Christopher. Then I climbed on top of him. My sexy Haitian-American stud gently put his arms on my hips and sucked on my tits as I began riding him. I lowered myself onto his member until I basically impaled myself on his dick. His cock felt real good inside of me. I hadn't gotten laid in months. I supported myself by resting my hands on Christopher's shoulders. And then I began riding him. Slowly at first then I picked up speed because I really like it rough. And Christopher was more than happy to give it to me. He thrust deep inside of me, and I squealed in delight as I finally got the fucking I deserved. We made love like that for hours. Whenever Christopher showed signs of slacking off, I would stroke him or suck him to full hardness and we would begin again. We used up a whole pack of condoms. It was really hot.

When I woke up, my sweet sexy man served me breakfast in bed. Like a lot of guys, Christopher is no Emeril. He'd gone down to the Tim Horton's restaurant nearby and came back with coffee, egg sandwiches and hash browns. I shook my head and smiled at him. Christopher kissed me and told me I was beautiful. I looked into his eyes and saw that he meant it. I playfully smacked his shoulder, then kissed him. And then I tore into the sandwiches because I was really hungry. When I was done, I burped, then hopped into the shower. And Christopher joined me. Thus, my guy and I began our passionate, adventurous life together. Three years down the line, he graduated from Carleton University with his bachelor's degree in Law. He joined me at Ottawa University, where he enrolled in Law School. He loves it at Ottawa U!

We got married shortly after his graduation from Carleton University. I had to meet his folks first, though. I met his parents during a Christmas visit to Boston. Boston is a lovely town, by the way. It's not Montreal but it has its charms. I love Christopher's parents. They're really nice people. His mother Astrid, a Haitian-born and naturalized U.S. citizen really liked me. We spoke French together while Christopher and his dad, Jonathan, both of them classifiable as fluent only in English, watched us. Christopher and I told his parents I was an orphan, but we declined to tell them the circumstances of my parents deaths. One thing at a time, eh? Christopher and I went back to Ottawa, and I'm happy to say he's getting his Canadian citizenship soon. We enjoy shocking people by telling them how we met. I never get tired of telling them our story. Makes them cringe. I'm not a religious freak or whatever but I think every day is a blessing. If my entire existence hadn't gone to hell, I never would have met the love of my life. A sweet Haitian-American stud. Life has a funny way of working out, eh?

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