Life is funny, man. People are so rarely what they appear to be. Take me for example. Sophie Des-Pres. A French-Canadian woman with a zest for life and a voracious sexual appetite. My ruling passions basically dominate my existence. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, kind of chubby, with dirty blonde hair and pale blue eyes. I have a curvy body, big tits and a fat ass no matter what I do. Thankfully, I'm learning to accept myself. The first day of January 2011 marked my fortieth birthday. Age does bring wisdom. I was born and raised in the City of Neuville, Province of Quebec. I moved to Metropolitan Montreal a few years ago. These days, I work at my alma mater, McGill University, where I teach Criminal Justice. It's where I met my future husband, Gary Saint-Preux.
Yeah, to the immense surprise of my parents, I married a big and tall Black man from the Republic of Haiti. Gary Saint-Preux. My handsome Black bear, as I call him affectionately. He moved to Montreal from his native town of Cap-Haitien a few years ago. These days, he attends the University of Montreal. I fell in love with this guy, and it surprised everyone, including me. I'm not the type of chick who typically goes after Black guys. I grew up in a very White section of Montreal. My parents are Jewish, deeply conservative and kept to themselves. I didn't associate with anyone who isn't White, to tell you the truth. I was polite but rather distant in my everyday interactions with the Black male and Black female students at McGill University. Then I met Gary Saint-Preux and he changed my world.
This macho, cocky Haitian guy who got on my nerves and challenged me in every way. Now, my parents never told me to keep away from Black guys but as a sensible Quebecoise from a conservative family, I didn't really associate with them. Which is why my attraction to Gary caught me by surprise. He was attracted to me and wouldn't relent. I was dating a handsome Irishman named Doyle Henderson at the time. Doyle was a police officer in the City of Montreal, the son of working-class Irish immigrants who came to Montreal in the early 1970s. I liked Doyle. My six-foot-one, red-haired and green-eyed Irishman. My parents liked him too. Everything was going alright. Until I left him for Gary Saint-Preux, a six-foot-four, burly Black guy from the Caribbean.
I so didn't mean to fall in love with Gary Saint-Preux. He's really not my type. I like tall men, but I prefer them slim instead of bulky. I also liked quiet men instead of loud, boisterous and wildly outgoing macho men. He was really not my type. Yet I couldn't resist his kind smile, his strong arms and his ruggedly handsome face. He was at the top of the business administration program at the University of Montreal. A twenty-five-year-old Haitian immigrant who was besting the Quebec elite at the best school in the entire Province. I was thirty six, and already starting to feel dissatisfied with my life. I cared about Doyle, and sex with him was great but I wanted more. I liked my job as a university professor in downtown Montreal. And I had recently become an aunt, since my sister Annabelle married this guy named Francis Grayson from the City of Melbourne, Australia.
Yeah, my little sister Annabelle Des-Pres went to teach to Aboriginal students in the City of Melbourne and ended up falling in love with this half-White, half-Aboriginal guy. Francis Grayson was tall, lean and athletic, with light brown skin, curly Black hair and pale green eyes. He was an assistant professor in the engineering department of the University of Melbourne. Aboriginal Australian guys look a lot like African guys, but experts insist the resemblance is superficial. They're not Black. Either way, my parents were shocked that my sister married this guy who looked Black. They basically disowned Annabelle. She moved to Australia with Francis, and they had a son together, Adam. I was really shocked that my Orthodox Jew of a sister married someone who wasn't White. You see, Annabelle and I aren't exactly a politically correct pair of siblings. I'm ashamed to say we were typical Quebecers growing up. Our parents weren't exactly tolerant of the ethnic minorities in the City of Montreal and passed their disdain for such people onto us. Yet somehow, my sister Annabelle overcame all that and married a man of color. Wow.
