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A Bisexual Haitian Tale

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Something about a big woman simply gets me really hot. I don’t know if you understand what I mean. Most guys don’t feel the way I do. I see all these guys out there checking out skinny women and I shake my head because there’s almost nothing a skinny chick can offer me. I like my chicks a little bit on the thick side, if you know what I mean. I have been this way ever since I was a young man.

When I discovered the Internet, I started looking for sexual images of the ladies that I desired. Big beautiful women. Whenever I went online and had some privacy, I’d check them out. I loved watching big women of all colors going at it with men and other women. This special interest of mine went way beyond online curiosity. I checked out large women openly. Unfortunately, my buddies didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t care. I love watching big black women especially. Something about a big woman with some flesh on her bones and a really large behind really gets me going. With that being said, I set out to indulge myself.

I went out to this club one night, and I made sure that I was dressed fine. I’m a chocolate-skinned Haitian-American brother, standing six feet two inches tall and weighing exactly 245 pounds. I’m a big man myself. People call me Big Sam. It’s short for Samuel. I went to the club and I checked out the local scene. I noticed a really fine-looking chick and her friend. I checked them out. The fine-looking chick was Hispanic, tall and slender, with black hair and bronze skin. I heard somebody call her Monica. Monica was what many men would consider really beautiful but my attention was mostly focused on her friend. Nothing against skinny chicks but I like something I can hold, if you know what I mean.

Monica’s friend was a sister. A tall, dark-skinned woman with short hair. She was well-dressed, and looked good. She was also on the thick side. Like Queen Latifah. Many guys who saw her would have thought she was pretty, especially in the face, but they would have overlooked her. Not me. To me, she was glorious. I saw her sitting at the bar by herself, while her friend was chatting with some white guy. I sat next to her and started conversation. I learned that her name was Nicole Saint Joseph. Nicole was a Haitian girl, twenty years old and living in Brighton, Massachusetts. She was studying Business Administration at the University of Boston. I told her a little bit about me. She was really interesting to talk to.

I’m not the kind of guy who is very comfortable when talking to the ladies. I used to be a shy man, in another life. Talking to Nicole was so easy. I felt really comfortable around her, for some reason. If you had seen us talking, you never would have believed that we had just met. Maybe it’s because we were both of Haitian origin. I told her about my dream of one day becoming a police officer. I had already earned myself an Associate’s degree in Criminal Justice. I’d get my Bachelor’s degree someday and then head to the Massachusetts state police academy in New Braintree. Nicole seemed fascinated by what I had to say. She seemed to be really paying attention and asked some interesting questions. As the night went by, I learned more about her. I can tell you that I liked what I found out.

I hadn’t met a woman this interesting in a long time. I asked her to dance and she smiled and told me that she had two left feet. I didn’t care. I’m not exactly an expert dancer but I really wanted to dance with her. So I insisted. She nodded and took my hand. We started dancing on the dance floor. I must admit that the girl had some pretty good moves. Haitian people love dancing. It’s in our blood, thanks to our African ancestors. We absolutely love it. Nicole and I were no exceptions. We danced the night away. When the night ended, she slipped me her number. I didn’t even have to ask. I smiled to myself and pocketed it. She left with her friend, and I headed back to my apartment. I had a big smile on my face.

That was a nice night, wasn’t it? Yeah. I went back to my dorm, at Emerson College. I couldn’t stop thinking about Nicole Saint Joseph. The girl was cool. The next day in class, I typed her name in Google. You wouldn’t believe what I found out. Nicole Saint Joseph was the daughter of Haitian businessman Nicolas Saint Joseph. Mr. Saint Joseph made a fortune by selling valuable Haitian artifacts to wealthy Americans who collected Caribbean art. I was impressed. Nicole’s father wasn’t her sole claim to fame. She was also a member of Boston University’s new, all-girl wrestling team. I checked out some of her stats online. She was listed as being five feet ten inches tall and she wrestled in the 215 pounds weight class. Also, she was one of the team captains. Well, if I was mildly impressed before, I was really impressed now.

I waited the mandatory three days and then I called Nicole. She picked up. She was surprised to hear me. Why was she surprised? She was a fine sister and I definitely wanted to know more about her! I asked her out on a date. She seemed hesitant. I insisted, and she accepted. I made a date with her canlı bahis inside the Food Court at Copley Mall. She showed up dressed in a black shirt and blue jeans. The girl looked damn sexy to me. Those jeans accented every curve in her body. Not for the first time I noticed that she had a really sexy butt. The kind of butt that many chicks in the hood possess. A bubble butt. Man, when I saw her, I was almost drooling. You can’t blame me for this, people. If you had seen her, you would have reacted the same way. I smiled and greeted her, then we headed to the Court to get something to eat.

We sat down at the center of the room and started talking. I had ordered some Chinese food and she had ordered some Mexican dishes. I offered to pay, of course, but she insisted on splitting it. I was a bit hesitant when she did that. Gentlemen, when you go on a date with a female, many times she will offer to pay, knowing that you won’t let her. It’s a mind game they play with you. Yet for some reason, I felt that she wasn’t like that. I let her split the bill with me and we sat down and ate. She told me about her life.

Nicole had lived in Haiti all of her life and had only been in the United States for a couple of years. She loved the city of Boston. She loved her new school. She also loved wrestling. She told me that she got interested in the sport way back in Haiti. She had two large older brothers who loved to play rough games with her so she loved contact sports. When she got accepted at Boston University, she joined their all-girl wrestling team. This was her third year on the team. She had twenty victories and five losses this season. She hoped to win the state championship someday.

I told her about my tough classes at Emerson College. Most of the Criminal Justice teachers were ex-cops and lawyers. Tough people. They never cut me any slack. I had five classes in total. Three years ago, I’d gotten accepted at Emerson on an academic scholarship. I had to maintain a GPA of three point three or more in order to keep it. Anything below that would cost me my chance and probably ruin my education. Nicole loved listening to me as I spoke. I found it quite easy to speak to her. I didn’t know why. Maybe it’s because she was a BBW and I loved those type of women. Or maybe it’s because she was a tomboy. I don’t know. For whatever the reason, she was easy to talk to. Also, a whole lot of fun. The girl had some jokes. I had a great time!

This is how it all began. We started dating. It was fun, in the beginning. I couldn’t get enough of this girl. Sometimes, she visited me at the dorm at Emerson. Other times, I took the train to Boston University and we chilled there. I met some of her friends. They were alright. One of her pals was a really cool guy named Matthew Blake. Matthew Blake was a tall, olive-skinned young man. He was the son of Arthur Blake, coach of the Boston University Women’s Wrestling team. Matt Blake was also a wrestler. He’d won the state championship for Boston University’s Men’s Wrestling team in the 235-pound weight class last year. I was impressed. Nicole’s other friends were interesting as well. Let’s see, who else? There’s Ricardo Sanchez, a tall and burly Mexican-American football player and also Nancy Ramirez, a biracial girl who was also the star player of the Boston University Women’s Soccer team. Man, I was impressed with Nicole, her lifestyle and her friends. I wish I knew more people like that.

I felt like my life was finally going right, you know. I was a young Black man in college headed toward a brilliant future in the field of Criminal Justice. I wanted to get out there and make a difference. I also wanted my parents to be proud of me. Franklin and Eleanor, my beloved parents, lived in Haiti. Sometimes, they visited me in Massachusetts. They were working very hard to pay for my college education. I was very grateful for that. My classes were going well. Many guys say that when they’re dating a girl, they get distracted from their academic priorities and their grades suffered. It was the reverse for me. I studied hard all week and aced my classes. I spent my weekends with Nicole and enjoyed every moment that we spent together. That’s how it was for me. I was doing fine in school. Soon I would have my college degree in my hand. I also had a wonderful young woman in my life. So what was wrong?

What was wrong indeed? I am not quite sure how to tell you this. Ever since I was a teenager, I had these feelings that I was struggling with. Before I tell you anything about them, I want to make something clear as crystal. I am not gay. I am a young man who loves women. I’ve always loved women. I wasn’t raised to be a homosexual. Yet for some reason, I had certain feelings whenever I was around certain guys. I didn’t know what to do about them. Most of you won’t understand this. I felt like it was eating me up inside. On one hand, I liked girls. I checked girls out all the damn time. On the other hand, sometimes at night I had these dreams about other guys. I didn’t tell anyone about this. I felt ashamed and I wanted it to bahis siteleri stop. Unfortunately, there seemed to be nothing I could do about it.

I was questioning my sexuality and it had started to mess with my mind. I was twenty years old and although I felt attracted to women ( and sometimes men) I had never had a sexual partner before. All I did was check people out and fantasize. What could I do? Those confusing feelings of mine were driving me crazy. The funny thing is that to top it all, I was falling in love with my girlfriend Nicole! I wondered what she would say if she knew that I felt attracted to both men and women. What would she say? I read a lot of stories about Down Low brothers. Black men who had relationships with women yet slept with other men on the side. Was that what I was destined to become? Men who were on the down low never admitted to being gay or bisexual. It was eerie. Some of these men were married and had children. I understood why they hid. I was a Black man and I knew that the Black community would never show any tolerance toward Black males who were gay or bisexual. Homophobia ran rampant in the Black community. Growing up, I heard a lot of people say some really nasty things about homosexuals. I always felt uncomfortable around people who said such things. Now I knew why. I knew what my mind had been hiding from itself all these years. I was bisexual.

I was still a virgin but I was on a voyage of discovery. I read books about gay and bisexual men. I read a really good fiction novel about a Hispanic high school basketball player. The guy was a popular jock, and he had a pretty girlfriend, but he was also secretly bisexual. He was confused, just like I was. He met a closeted boy from his school’s swim team and they became friends. He even became pals with an effeminate gay boy at school. The three of them became pals. The swimmer and the ball player even fell in love in the end. I read it over and over. This book is called Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez. I loved it. The characters were believable. I also read a non-fiction novel about a bisexual Black man who came out of the closet and told the world about the duplicitous lifestyle he used to lead back when he was on the down low. These books made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

I spent a lot of time with Nicole, even while all this was going on in my head. The more time I spent with this girl, the more I loved her. She was amazing, you know? I recall one time when I went to Plymouth to visit an old friend. Things didn’t go so well. I even missed the train and found myself stranded down in Plymouth. Nicole drove all the way from Boston and picked me up. Isn’t she wonderful? I loved this young woman! She was loyal, devoted and absolutely wonderful. Any man on the planet would be lucky to have her in his life. You can imagine how guilty I felt about those hidden sexual feelings that I had for men. I seemed to be stuck and had no way out. I felt trapped.

Sometimes at night, I was wracking my brain trying to come up with a solution to my problem. Surely there must be others like me out there. Guys who went through the same situation and found a way to work things out. I did a lot of research into it online. I read stories about bisexual men who were married, divorced or even widowed. A lot of these guys were Black males, just like me. I went into a very popular website, frequented by college students nationwide. I went into a chat room and that’s where I met an individual who called himself BiMan1984. We started talking. This guy sounded cool. We talked about anything and everything. Like me, he lived in the Boston area. He was also a college student. Man, it was a relief to talk to him. As time went by, we got more and more comfortable with each other. I could tell him things that I couldn’t tell anybody else. I could actually be myself when talking to him. For months, we chatted online. He sent me many messages and I always replied. Finally, there was someone I could talk to. Like me, he knew how the community treated any man who was anything other than straight. He knew my fears. I talked to him about some of my most forbidden fantasies. All the things that I longed to do with another guy. He understood. Finally, one day, he asked me if we could meet. I agreed to meet him in Boston. All was cool.

I couldn’t believe that I was actually going to meet a guy in Boston. Sure, it was a guy I had been speaking to for some time now but it was a stranger nonetheless! All of a sudden, I got worried. I wasn’t so sure about this anymore. Still, I was curious. Curiosity won over safety and I showed up at the Copley Mall to meet with the mystery man who called himself BiMan1984. I didn’t know it but I was about to get the surprise of a lifetime.

I went into the Mall, and waited. BiMan1984 described himself as a good-looking, athletic Hispanic male in his early twenties. He said he’d be wearing a red shirt and blue jeans. I waited and waited. Finally, I saw a Latin dude in red and blue, but…wait a minute…I knew this guy! It was Matt! The guy walked up to me bahis şirketleri and we shook hands. I could tell that he was quite surprised to se that it was me. Man, talk about a small world! Matt, the wrestler from Boston University was BiMan1984, the guy I had been talking to online these past few months. We sat down at a table to talk.

Matthew sat down and we got to talking. Man, I was still surprised to find out he was the guy I’d been chatting with. Matthew seemed so fine and masculine, I couldn’t believe that he swung both ways! Of course, I knew that most bisexual and gay men weren’t anything like the effeminate stereotypes. Most of them were usually indistinguishable from straight men in outward appearance, mannerisms and behavior. We talked for some time. He told me about his life. He’d realized that he was bisexual at the age of eighteen. He had a relationship with Morris Stanley, a guy from his school’s Hockey team. He also had a thing going on with Stacy Brown, a fine-looking sister who lived in Somerville. He showed me pictures of his lovers. Both of them were very attractive people. Matthew was cool. He was also a lot more experienced than I was. In his lifetime, he’d been romantically involved with five girls and three guys. I told him that I was still a virgin, even though I seemed like a player and had a steady girlfriend.

Matt wasn’t surprised that I was a virgin. If anything can be said about the gay and bisexual community, it’s that appearances can be deceiving. We talked for hours, about everything from sports to life as closeted bisexual males to minority issues and so on. We had a lot in common. We ate dinner inside the Mall and then went to a movie theater. We watched a cool movie together, Brokeback Mountain. Everyone was talking about it. A movie about two Cowboys who fell in love. Both of them were regular-looking guys who just happened to like other guys. Both of these dudes were bisexual. One of them ended up marrying a feisty Texan Cowgirl. The movie was realistic. I really enjoyed it. So did he. When the afternoon ended, we traded cell phone numbers and email addresses. We promised to stay in touch. I was ecstatic. It looked like I had finally found myself a friend…and he was just like me!

That night, when I went home, I felt happy. I was not alone. I lay on my bed, thinking about my life. I can’t explain to you or make you understand how lonely I have been. Most people simply wouldn’t get it. I was a tall, good-looking Black male in college. I was healthy and strong. I was also very smart. Yet I was desperately lonely, and felt that no one would understand me. I felt like I was all alone in the universe. Well, I wasn’t. There were others like me out there. There had to be. Even in the Haitian community. There had to be young Haitian men and women who had the same type of feelings I had. Those young people probably hid their feelings from their families and friends, for fear of alienation and rejection. Here’s to hoping that someday, we will all be free to express our true selves in the world.

I lay there on my bed, and my thoughts drifted. My mind wondered, and I almost didn’t hear the knock on my door. I went and opened it, and there she was. My lovely girlfriend, Nicole Saint Joseph. She was standing there, wearing her letterman jacket over a gray shirt and jeans. I smiled and welcomed her inside. She looked at me and said we had to talk. I was suddenly very nervous and led her into my dorm room. Things hadn’t been the same between us for a long time. I still cared for her, you know. I was always there for her. I went to all of her matches. I was loyal and affectionate and completely devoted. I wanted her to be happy. Unfortunately, I wasn’t happy. I thought I could hide it from her. I was wrong.

Nicole sat down on my bed and we talked. I was nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She was asking me so many questions. She thought I was depressed or something. I hadn’t noticed how stressful my existence had gotten since my repressed feelings resurfaced. I was so stressed out about it that I had lost weight. Without noticing, I had lost ten pounds! Well, I hadn’t noticed but Nicole had. She kept pressing me with questions and I struggled to give her answers. We had been going out for a few months. We kissed and all that but rarely went further. Originally, I had felt a strong attraction to her but she told me that she wanted to know me better before jumping into the sack with me. Like most men would be, I was frustrated because of that, but that was before my repressed feelings resurfaced. I had been so busy feeling confused about my sexuality and searching for answers that I had ignored my girl’s feelings for me. I felt so bad because of that.

What should I tell her? I took her hands in mine and told her that I was sorry because I hadn’t been myself lately. I had a lot to deal with. Seriously. I didn’t tell her what but I told her how stressed I was. She told me she only wanted to help. We talked for hours about these things, and things we used to enjoy doing together, like going to the movies or watching sports together, way back in the beginning of the relationship. Nicole smiled. She remembered those times. I told her that from now on, things were going to be different. She smiled and gave me a hug.

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