African American Wedding

There is an old saying that once you do certain things, undoing them can prove difficult or even impossible. I'm starting to agree. My name is Alec La Pierre. Pronounced exactly the way it sounds. A six-foot-one, lean and wiry young Black man with light brown skin, curly Black hair and pale green eyes. My father Napoleon La Pierre is Black and my mother Eileen Duarte was part Jamaican and part Irish. These days, I'm so mad that I'm actually starting to see red. What's my problem? I hate everyone. I guess a lot of people feel like they hate the world but I really do. If an asteroid were to hit the earth tomorrow, I wouldn't feel upset. The way I see it, anything that wipes out humanity is doing the cosmos a favor. Why am I so glum? I guess you could say that I've been around too many lousy people.

The funny thing is that three days ago, I felt like I was on top of the world. Then my world came crashing down. How did it happen? Long story. Since you're here, we might as well start at the beginning. It was the summer of 2009 and I was having the time of my life. I'd recently graduated from the Carroll School of Management at Boston College. I finally had my MBA and I was only twenty four years old. Not bad, huh? I was engaged to a beautiful young woman named Megan Franks. A tall, stylish and exquisitely gorgeous Black American Princess. The daughter of a wealthy African-American family from Atlanta, Georgia. We met at the Student Center at Northeastern, which she attends. Megan and I fell in love. I thought we were going to be together forever. I don't believe in fairytales anymore than the average person does, but this time I made an exception.

Many of the people who knew us thought Megan and I were a match made in the kingdom of heaven. The offspring of two wealthy African-American families meeting and falling in love at a college in Boston. We were having the time of our lives. I'm a native of Boston's South End and Megan had recently moved there from Atlanta, the crown jewel of the South. We were very different people, yet we had a lot in common. I've met many good-looking, intelligent women at many colleges and universities in Boston. However, I've never met anyone like Megan before. She was simply divine, folks. It's hard to meet a good-looking, and talented Black female college student who's not stuck up. Especially if she's from a wealthy family.

When I met Megan, I was smitten but I can't say I was holding out much hope. I've met too many rich Black chicks with an attitude problem. Megan wasn't like that. She was smart, friendly and quite open. In fact, she was quite humble. Like I said, I've never met anybody like that. Myself, I'm not very humble. I am quite proud of my origins and my accomplishments. I don't brag, I just don't mind telling people the truth. Megan was the total opposite. She almost seemed embarrassed by the fact that her father, Mitchell Franks was the author of a large number of internationally best-selling nonfiction books about urban policy, corporate management and diversity politics in the workplace. As for her mother, Rosa Andrade Franks, she's the first Black female president of Terrence Sanford College, one of the whitest schools in the South.

I must say I was impressed with the Franks family. They did fairly well for themselves. I always run a background check on women I'm seriously interested in. I believe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, so when you look at a woman's immediate family, you have a good idea who and what she is. Of course, the picture isn't always accurate but it gives you some idea. Proceeding with caution into any new relationship is a must, of course. I've been at Boston College for years and I've dated all kinds of women. Black women. Asian women. Latin women. Middle-Eastern women. White chicks don't really do it for me but I've got nothing against them. I know they won't miss me. Every other Black man on campus has got one of them on his arm. It takes a lot for a woman to impress me. Looks and intelligence help, but they're not everything. A woman's character matters to me as well. I need to know who and what I'm dealing with otherwise what's the point?

Boston College attracts a lot of rich, stuck-up brats. I ought to know, I used to be one of them. A lot of the students say they're interested in philanthropy but they aren't. Megan was one of those rare people who put her money where her mouth was. Rather than merely talk about how she wanted to help poor inner city families or simply make a donation to the Salvation Army or some other outfit, she volunteered. And this she did without fanfare. She rolled up her sleeves and went to work at a homeless shelter in Boston. And you know what? She didn't do it to get attention. She simply felt like helping people. This Black female millionaire seemed to have a heart of gold. I was drawn to her. But I was still proceeding with caution. I've been burned in the past. No woman is perfect, folks. I know this. I still wanted to believe that a kindred soul existed. Someone who would be perfect for me. I don't believe in perfection but who says I can't find the right companion?

For ages, I watched Megan from afar as she did her thing. I would watch her at the campus library and sometimes in the cafeterias. Other times, I would simply follow her around. From a great distance, of course. Look, I'm not a stalker and I'm not obsessed with her. I mean her no harm. I'm not a creep. I am simply looking into certain things. You see, I believe that everyone has got something to hide. One of my school's most brilliant professors, Mrs. Janet Carrey, is also the most uptight person I know. Her husband Albert works in the athletic department. One day, I saw her in the South End and followed her out of curiosity.

Guess where I saw her go? Into the Black Lotus, one of Boston's most well-known dyke bars. And when she came out, an hour later, she wasn't alone. There was a tall, good-looking young woman with her. I think her name was Mary something or other. A young woman who was one of her students and one of Boston College's top sportswomen. Yeah, the brilliant yet uptight, deeply conservative professor was having a lesbian affair with a female student. I found this kind of funny. And for some reason, I found it kind of sad. It's the new millennium. I wonder why so many gays and lesbians still hide their business, especially in Massachusetts. I mean, Massachusetts is the gayest state in America. We've got the highest percentage of openly gay elected officials. What does that tell you?

This incident with the professor only reaffirmed my belief that everyone had something to hide. My former roommate Elijah Stanhope was a nice guy from a wealthy Jewish family in Rhode Island. He had a beautiful girlfriend named Myra Stone and they were engaged. Yet he was constantly surfing the Internet for porn. Some truly disturbing shit, too. What kind of porn? Let's just say he'd have been quite at home on that TV show where certain bad guys dirty secrets are exposed by a certain reporter. There's dirt on everyone out there. I liked Megan. I wanted to be with her. But I needed to make sure she was who and what she appeared to be. I mean, nobody's perfect. I'm a womanizer. I like all kinds of females, as long as they're cute in the face and big in the booty. I like to party. Sometimes I drink socially. I like violent movies, the gorier the better. I drive my bright red convertible too fast and I don't care whom it bothers. I have a real problem with authority figures whose IQ points are lower than mine. I'm academically gifted but with kind of a laissez faire attitude sometimes, you know? That's me.

Try as I might, I couldn't find anything faulty with the lovely Megan Franks. Even as we started going out. She was a classy dame all the way. Made me wait three weeks before I tapped that ass but in her defense, it was worth it. We got down in her dorm one Friday night after dining together at the Club Café and catching a great movie at Loews theater. I enjoyed making love to Megan. She was all that and then some, folks. Even now, my body trembles with desire as I recall how fun that experience was.

Megan was a real freak in bed. She threw me on the bed and hastily undressed me before licking me from my head to my toes. She sucked my dick and licked my balls. Afterwards, she straddled me and rode me like a bucking bronco. Hell, she even let me hit it from the back. She got on all fours and spread her ass cheeks for me. I came up behind her and pushed my dick against her backdoor. Swiftly, I went inside. I've never fucked a woman in the ass before. Let alone a sexy black woman like Megan. I thrust my dick deep into her ass and fucked her good. We went at it like this for half an hour, then stopped to catch our breaths. It was fun.

A month later, we got engaged. Megan was seriously hot. The kind of chick who rocked my world in bed and thrilled me intellectually. I saw her as an intelligent, educated and sexy black woman. Every bit my equal. The fact that she was wealthy also helped. We planned a lavish wedding. Right up to the day when she ditched me for some rich white guy she knew from her school days. See what I mean about everybody having something to hide? It turns out that Megan had been seeing this dude behind my back for some time. So I dumped her sorry ass and moved on with my life. I'll never get married. I just can't trust anyone anymore. I guess I'm doomed to be single forever but that's okay. The life of a player appeals to me. It's fun. It's adventurous. It's dangerous. It's my life!