Bisexual Haitian Masculinities

13 Ocak 2022 0 Yazar: admin

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“Yvon, I don’t want to be with you anymore, this relationship isn’t working out, we are so over,” Kurt Linwood said, and the tall, slim, blond-haired and blue-eyed, lisping-prone young man eyed his lover coldly, gauging his reaction. Yvon Marchand sighed deeply, and did not say anything for the moment. Outwardly calm, he was nevertheless filled with turmoil inside.

This isn’t happening, Yvon thought to himself. Last night, Yvon and his lover Kurt, whom he’d met years ago during their halcyon days at the University of Montreal, had dinner with Yvon’s parents, Therese and Martin Marchand. The old-fashioned Haitian couple had taken their sweet time learning to accept the fact that their only son Yvon swung both ways. In the end, they’d grudgingly accepted Yvon and his partner Kurt, and now this happened…

“Well, I’m sure you’re going to be happy with that fucker Raul,” Yvon said, and he grabbed his cell phone and showed Kurt a picture he’d snapped up of Kurt in the arms of Raul Neruda, the owner of Neruda’s Castle, a nearby restaurant which Yvon and Kurt regularly patronized. For a long time, Yvon suspected Kurt of cheating on him, so he discretely followed his lover around. What Yvon uncovered along the way astonished him…

Yvon flashed Kurt an evil smile as he confronted him with the evidence of his wrongdoing. In the picture, the cheater looked guilty as hell. Kurt had his arms all over Raul, the tall Latino restaurant owner he’d been seeing behind his back. Gotcha, sucker, Yvon thought, and he actually laughed a little. Kurt made a shocked little gasp, and that’s when Yvon grabbed him by the collar and pressed him against the wall. Hard.

“Kurt, you son of a bitch, give me one reason why I shouldn’t beat your ass right now,” Yvon said angrily. Kurt tried to resist him or slip from his grasp, but the five-foot-eight, 160-pound Kurt was no match for the six-foot-plus, 250-pound Yvon Marchand. The burly, dark-skinned brother had the pale, sniveling little bozo right where he wanted him. Normally, Yvon was a certified gentleman, but today, Kurt triggered his rage…

“You made me do this, Yvon, you never completely accepted your sexuality, your Facebook profile still says that you’re Bisexual, you still check out women’s asses when you’re out with me, and you’re way too sensitive about all kinds of stuff, I honestly needed someone else,” Kurt replied, whining. It took all of Yvon’s self-control not to hit him. This punk-ass bitch Kurt isn’t worth it, Yvon told himself.

“Kurt, you cheated on me, I sacrificed a lot to be with you, and you betrayed me, you’re a bitch, a useless bitch, get your shit and get out of my place, and if you ever come back here again, I’ll beat your ass senseless,” Yvon said angrily. Kurt shook his head and walked out of the apartment in a huff. Yvon plopped down on the couch and sighed, wondering what he was doing when his life went to Hell.

Yvon didn’t really drink, but today was a rather spectacular exception. The big and tall young Black man, who once played for the University of Montreal internationally famous men’s Rugby team, squared his rather broad shoulders and grabbed a beer from the fridge. It was a bottle of Alexander Keith’s beer, out of Nova Scotia. His favorite brand since day one.

Yvon thought about what just happened, and a wave of anger mixed with sadness swirled about his mind. The day started so damn well. Yvon had gotten a promotion to manager at work, he’d be one of three people in charge of the Collections Department of the Cash Money Call Center. They were the people who made those annoying calls reminding borrowers to honor their financial obligations…

When Yvon graduated from the University of Montreal with a bachelor’s degree in Accounting two years ago, he thought he’d end up working for a big firm, or perhaps for Revenue Canada. Sadly, the only place that would hire him fresh out of school was the Cash Money Call Center. The agency had its affiliates in cities and towns across Ontario, Quebec and Alberta. They lent money to men and women with bad credit, and made money off the interest on those loans.

Yvon’s job wasn’t ideal, and sometimes he questioned the ethics of his employer, but he wasn’t about to jeopardize his J.O.B. Yvon was a career-minded man, too bad his personal life was pure shit. When Yvon met Kurt Linwood at the University of Montreal three years ago, they came from different worlds. The tall, dark and handsome Rugby player, and the Fine Arts student. Nevertheless, they began hooking up, and soon developed an actual relationship.

At the time that Yvon met Kurt Linwood, he’d just admitted to himself that he was Bisexual. He’d had the conversation with his parents, who were less than thrilled to hear that their only son swung both ways. Yvon’s last girlfriend, a young Afro-Cuban woman named Rosalind Castro, dumped him when he told her that he was sexually attracted to both women and men. That’s what honesty gets a brother, ankara dansöz escortlar Yvon lamented.

When Yvon met Kurt, he met someone who was very different from himself. While Yvon liked both sexes, Kurt was totally Gay…and visibly so. Sometimes Yvon wished Kurt would tone it down and act “normal” but he insisted on being as flamboyant as he could be. Still, Kurt was generous, good in bed, and had a lot of money. He adored Yvon, and even though Yvon’s relationship with Kurt cost him several friendships, he stayed with his lover. Until today…

Yvon remembered the way a lot of his friends, male and female, reacted when he told them that he was Bisexual…and dating Kurt. A lot of them had trouble believing that Yvon swung that way. He was tall, masculine and handsome, and carried himself like a macho man. Yvon didn’t fit the stereotype of the effeminate, funny-sounding and funny-acting, overtly gay males that most people were familiar with. He looked…normal.

“I only stayed with that bitch because he gave killer head,” Yvon said to himself, and his words rang untrue even to him. Yvon did care about Kurt, and he thought that Kurt cared about him. Unfortunately, Kurt strayed. Yvon thought of the last time he and Kurt made love, two days ago. The two of them felt frisky after coming home from the movies.

“Kurt, bring that cute ass over here, Big Daddy wants to play,” Yvon said, smirking lustfully, his deep, masculine voice sending thrills down Kurt’s spine. Kurt got naked, and Yvon admired his lean, pale and definitely fine body. Soon Yvon had Kurt bent over the living room sofa, and he was drilling his dick into his ass while Kurt stroked himself, moaning in sheer ecstasy.

“Hmm, I can never get tired of your big Haitian cock,” Kurt said to Yvon, groaning as the tall, burly Black man gripped his hips and slammed his dick up his ass. Kurt was a power bottom all the way and loved sucking big, throbbing dark cocks and getting fucked in the ass. Yvon was top for the most part, and he couldn’t get enough of Kurt’s tight ass on his dick.

“Shut the fuck up and take this dick,” Yvon said, and he rammed his dick up Kurt’s ass like there was no tomorrow. Kurt screamed obscenities as Yvon banged his ass, hard. Prior to meeting Yvon, Kurt had been with a lot of Black men but he’d never experienced the sexual power and raw masculinity of a Haitian man. Kurt’s asshole gripped Yvon’s dick tightly and did not let go until Yvon came, flooding him with his spunk.

“You love this ass,” Kurt said, and Yvon grinned, then kissed him. Yup, the two of them had a passionate relationship, but there were lots of problems. Like a lot of Gay men, Kurt Linwood had a problem with male Bisexuality. Kurt would freak out whenever Yvon noticed a big-bottomed female walking by. Before Yvon met Kurt, Yvon had been dating a big-bottomed Latina named Rosa something or other. Don’t leave me for a woman, Kurt thought, alarmed.

In the end, Kurt was the one who left Yvon. At first, Yvon was devastated, and it took him a day or two to tell his parents. He went on Facebook, and announced the demise of his relationship with Kurt. To beat Yvon to the punch, Kurt posted pictures of himself holding hands with Raul Neruda, rendering their new relationship quite official. Bitch moved on quick, Yvon thought angrily.

While in a funk, Yvon decided to skip town for a few days. He went to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, and went to hang out with his buddy Trey, a former teammate from his University of Montreal Rugby days. Trey was living in Ottawa with his girlfriend Stacey. The two of them owned a nice condo in the Barrhaven area. While hanging out in the west end of Ottawa, Yvon met a beautiful young Muslim woman named Zahra Samatar, originally from Somalia.

“Say, are you the same Yvon who played Rugby for University of Montreal and helped us beat McGill University for the first time in ten years?” Zahra asked Yvon, when she approached him inside the local Walmart. Yvon, who was in the process of stocking his cart full of oranges, looked at the tall, curvy, Hijab-wearing young Somali Muslim woman and smiled graciously. What does she want? Yvon wondered.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m Yvon the Terrible,” he said, laughing. I can’t believe she remembers that stuff, Yvon thought. Back in the day, his teammates called him Yvon the Terrible because he would charge through the enemy’s offense like a conquering warrior. Zahra looked Yvon up and down, and noticed that he looked good, had a nice smile, and kind eyes. Foreign brothers are something else, Zahra thought.

“Oh, cool, by the way, I thought you were so brave, coming out as Bisexual to your entire team, I watched the YouTube video many times, how is your guy, Kurt, by the way?” Zahra asked, and Yvon paused. Three years ago his life changed, and he lost a lot, but also gained a lot…for a time. When Yvon came out as Bisexual, he lost a lot of friends, but became an icon to the ankara saatlik veren escortlar LGBT community. Many supported him, though some called him a fence-sitter…

“Well, Zahra, I’m single now, actually, Kurt dumped me for another guy,” Yvon said, sighing. It felt oddly good to tell the truth. He looked at Zahra, this beautiful female stranger, and couldn’t believe that he was telling her all these things. I should get going, Yvon thought. He wondered how to best extricate himself from this awkward situation without appearing to be rude. Mama did raise a gentleman, Yvon thought.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Yvon, his loss if you ask me, say, take this, if you’re not doing anything this week, check us out,” Zahra said, and she pulled a flyer out of her purse and handed it to him. Yvon took the flyer from her and looked it over. By the time he’d finished reading it, Zahra was gone. She’d vanished utterly, like a frigging Ninja. What just happened? Yvon wondered.

“Ottawa’s Coming Out As Bisexual Support Group, meetings thursdays and Sundays at eight in the basement of Saint Jude’s Church off on Metcalfe Street,” read the flyer, and Yvon smiled. He couldn’t believe that a Hijab-wearing Muslim woman handed him a flyer about a support group for Bisexual people. Life was full of ironies. Sure, I’ll check it out, Yvon thought to himself, laughing.

When Yvon returned to his room at Trey’s place, he thought about Zahra and that group of hers. When he looked her up on Facebook, he saw that the lady was divorced, and older than him by a couple of years. She graduated from the University of Montreal with a degree in Business, and worked for the Canada Revenue Agency right here in Ottawa. Interesting dame, Yvon thought.

Yvon’s first visit to the C.O.A.B.S.G. or Coming Out As Bisexual Support Group was fun. There were seven women and nine men. Among the attendees were a tall young black man and a tall, older, blonde-haired white woman who looked pregnant. We come in all shapes and sizes, Yvon thought, wryly amused. His heart skipped a beat when he saw a familiar-looking lady take the podium.

“Salaam, my people, my name is Zahra, I’m a Muslim woman, and I’m a proud Bisexual,” the Hijab-wearing gal said, and applause went up among the small crowd. Yvon smiled and clapped along with everyone else, astonished to see Zahra take the podium. He listened with rapt attention as Zahra spoke, telling her tale of woe and triumph…

“When I came out as a Bisexual woman, my fellow Muslims turned against me, my own family cast me out, and my husband Wahid tried to straighten me out and when he couldn’t, he divorced me, but I survived, and became stronger as a result,” Zahra continued, her melodious voice spread across the church basement. What a remarkable woman, Yvon thought, amazed.

“You were simply amazing up there,” Yvon said to Zahra, when she came back to her seat. As it turns out, she was one row behind him, seated next to two other women, and he joined her. Zahra smiled at Yvon and thanked him for coming. What the young woman said next stunned the hell out of the normally unflappable Yvon…

“Yvon, you were my inspiration when I came out to my family, I’ve always known that I liked both guys and girls, but being an observant Muslim woman, I never thought I could face up to it, you inspired me when you came out to the entire school at a televised press conference after helping the University of Montreal Rugby team beat McGill,” Zahra said, laughing. You are amazing, at least to me, Zahra thought, looking at a stunned Yvon.

“Well, thank you Zahra,” Yvon said, unsure what else to say. Zahra was looking at Yvon the way he’d seen people look at his favorite celebrity, NBA legend Lebron James, when they spotted him at certain events. The Hijabi looked almost starstruck. He smiled at Zahra, and then mercifully, she changed the subject. Yvon had never been one for praise…

“I live my life on my own terms,” Zahra said with a sly wink, and Yvon nodded. Someone else came to the podium, a middle-aged Arab man in traditional clothes. The man introduced himself as Maher something or other, and got teared up as he shared his tale of coming out as Bisexual to his wife and three sons…

“Say, Zahra, what are you doing after the meeting? Grab coffee with me, I’d love to hear more,” Yvon said, aware that his line sounded weak, and Zahra smiled and playfully slapped his arm. Yvon grinned nervously, for her smile and presence were affecting him in ways he found…odd. He hadn’t felt like that around a woman in ages…

“Hmm, we most fast, don’t we, Yvon? Sure, I’m game,” Zahra said, laughing, and Yvon returned her smile. This woman is not at all what I expected and I definitely want to know her better, Yvon thought, and when Zahra winked at him, he felt a pleasant little tingle down below. What’s happening to me? Yvon thought, puzzled by his reaction to Zahra.

“A Muslim lady who wears the Hijab ankara azeri escortlar and is proudly Bisexual, and frigging gorgeous, I’m impressed,” Yvon said to Zahra, as they sat inside Bridgehead, half an hour later. After leaving Saint Jude’s basement, they bantered a bit as they walked around the block, then, since it was cold outside, they went to the cafe to get warm…

“Well, thank you, Yvon, but slow down on the sweet words, handsome, I just got out of a bad relationship with a heifer named Mariam,” Zahra said quietly, and Yvon paused. It had been so long since he’d done the whole social thing/flirting with a woman that he’d forgotten how they could switch up on a brother.

“Hmm, do tell,” Yvon said, as if Zahra hadn’t just shot him down, albeit in a polite way. Zahra pursed her lips, and then told Yvon about Mariam, a long-time friend of hers, who revealed herself as a lesbian to Zahra after her divorce from Wahid and her outing as a Bisexual woman sent ripples through the Somali community. What followed was a sad, rather predictable little tale…

“Somali people are even more resistant to LGBT people than your fellow Haitians, my dear Yvon, Mariam and I started going out, and she couldn’t take it, the way our fellow Somalis would look at us, and in the end, it drove us apart,” Zahra said, and she sighed, and lowered her head as though ashamed.

“Zahra, it’s not your fault, it just wasn’t meant to be,” Yvon said calmly, looking into her eyes. Zahra nodded, and smiled. They talked some more, then left Bridgehead after exchanging information. Yvon gave Zahra a brief hug prior to departing. This lady is something else and we should keep in touch, he thought as he left.

When Yvon returned to the City of Montreal, Quebec, the next day, he had dinner with his parents, and they offered words of encouragement to their son as he explained the pain he was going through. Yvon was amused when his father suggested he come to church and check out some of the young ladies. Yvon wasn’t interested in chasing the ladies or the fellas, since both brought him problems. Nope, the brother wanted to fly solo…

Slowly, Yvon adjusted to his new normal. He blocked Kurt Linwood and Raul Neruda on Facebook for his own sanity, and changed his cell phone number, only letting his parents and co-workers know the new one. Well, there was one other person whom he allowed to be in the know, and that person was Zahra.

“Salaam, handsome, thought you’d never call a sister,” Zahra said when Yvon called her, a week after he went back to Montreal. Yvon chuckled, and made up an excuse about being busy with work, and all that jazz. Zahra laughed, and seemed to buy it, then again, with her, Yvon couldn’t tell because he was unsure of a lot of things.

“Oh I’m dealing with work right now because the personal stuff is too painful, I avoid those random Gay dudes and Bisexual dudes out there who keep making eye contact with me because they want to get some, and my parents keep trying to fix me up with young ladies from church, I say no to both because I don’t need the pain,” Yvon said, sighing deeply. The last thing he wanted in his life was more chaos…

“Oh come on, Yvon, you have to get out there, don’t tell me you’re at home in your pajamas and growing a depression beard over this Kurt guy, you need to go out there and get some booty, female or male, if you don’t, I might have to come over and spank you,” Zahra said, laughing. For some reason, Yvon felt a tingle somewhere, ahem, in his lower anatomy when she did that…

“Well, I’ll see what I can do, wouldn’t want you to have to come all the way to Montreal to spank a brother, Miss Ottawa,” Yvon replied, chuckling, and Zahra laughed merrily. They chatted like this for some time, then hung up about an hour later. When Yvon next went to the washroom, he saw that he had a boner for some reason. Zahra is making me feel things, he thought, both aroused and puzzled.

“The brother is thirsty for me, and although I want him, I’m going to make him wait,” Zahra said to herself as she sat in the Starbucks next to her CRA building, located off of Bank Street. She didn’t much care for Starbucks as a brand ever since the incident involving the female manager calling the cops on the two brothers, but it was close to work, so that was that. Ethically sourced coffee served by baristas who sometimes don’t like black people, Zahra thought, annoyed.

A few weeks went by in this fashion, with Zahra and Yvon calling each other a lot, and spending an average of forty five minutes on the phone together. They discussed everything from Black life in Canada to post-university life, the way LGBT people treated Bisexual people like lepers, especially Bisexual men, and all that jazz. Oh, and along the way, their conversations got increasingly sexual…

“Get ready for some company, handsome, I’m going to be in Laval, Quebec, for a three-day conference with our affiliates in la belle province, maybe we can grab coffee when I get there,” Zahra told Yvon, and she swore she could hear him smile on the other line. Yvon, eager as ever, promised to meet her at the greyhound bus station, and that earned him a chuckle from Zahra. This is going to be fun, Zahra thought as she hung up.

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