6 comments/ 20448 views/ 6 favorites A Native American Goddess By: Samuelx My name is Jennifer Angvariationu Toke and one source of frustration for me in this life is the fact that I get confused for a lot of things I'm not. It gets really annoying sometimes. I'm not Mexican or Middle-Eastern, not that there's anything wrong with that. I am a member of the Sioux People. That's a Native American Nation for those of you with your heads up your ignorant asses. My name literally means "Another Day" and it suits me just fine. I was born on February 7, 1987 in the City of Winnipeg, Canadian Province of Manitoba. These days, I live in the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario. The life of a Native American chick in North America seems to be a source of fascination for a lot of people. And I personally could care less. I just live my life, man. I hold a Bachelor's degree in Criminology from the University of Winnipeg. I'm currently in Law School at the University of Toronto. I live in the suburb of Brampton with my husband Jacques Saint-Denis, a burly Haitian-American guy I met a little over a year ago. I work as a Security Manager at the local Shopping Mall to pay some bills. I make my own money and I'm self-sufficient. So much for the Canadian stereotype of the Native or Aboriginal person as dependant on Government assistance to make ends meet. There are quite a few other Natives living in the City of Toronto. We've carved a niche for ourselves in Canada's largest City. Among the growing population of Africans, Chinese, Hispanics and Arabs. Toronto is the only place where I felt like home. I think it's the best City in all of Canada. People seem more relaxed here, and they're less full of themselves. A far cry from Winnipeg, the uptight and bigoted western Canadian town where I grew up. I got called a squaw and a "Red Woman" at school. I endured the teasing until I learned to defend myself. Being six-foot-one and quite heavyset helped. I used to play Football back in High School. I simply loved contact sports. I joined the Women's Wrestling Club at the University of Winnipeg and I quickly became its captain. Yeah, I'm a very physical gal. A lot of men found that intimidating about me. Tall and strongly built Native women are seen as intimidating by White guys in Canada. And we're supposed to be all peaceful and subservient. Like hell. The crap I endured growing up made me a misanthrope before I reached my twenties. The Canadian government continues to screw over Native people, and that bastard Stephen Harper calls himself a progressive. Same old story, I guess. My fellow Natives piss me off most of all. It seems that every Native chick in the prairies has a White boyfriend. Yep, they're eager to date the same redneck bastards who call us "Redskin" to our faces. I don't get down like that. The Native men in the prairies didn't like me either. They found me too bold, outspoken and aggressive. I can't help it. I'm passionate about Women's rights and Native American/Aboriginal Rights issues. I tried joining the Women's Rights Group at the University of Winnipeg but like mainstream Feminism, it's basically a group for White women. Disgusted, I kept to myself and focused on my schoolwork. After graduating from the University of Winnipeg, I moved to Metropolitan Toronto. And Toronto simply blew me away. The City really didn't feel like the rest of Canada. Toronto people are lively, cool, friendly and open-minded. The rest of Canada is uptight, narrow-minded and boring. I made more friends during my first twelve months in Toronto than I did in four years at the University of Winnipeg. One of those friends was Sarah Saint-Denis, a tall and skinny Haitian chick originally from the town of Miami, Florida. Sarah and I had some of the same classes at the University of Toronto School of Law. As luck would have it, Sarah and I clicked right away. She was thirty years old, living with her husband Ibrahim Mustafa, a Somalian accountant, and their son Mohammed, while attending Law School. Sarah came to Toronto from her hometown of Miami a couple of years ago for school and fell in love both with the vibrant town and a certain handsome Somalian businessman. They got hitched, and the rest was history. Sarah and I became BFFs, best friends forever. She introduced me to her circle of friends, a group of lovely, educated women from places like Mexico, the Republic of Haiti and Somaliland. I felt more accepted and loved among these immigrant women than I did among my own people back in Winnipeg. Thanks to these amazing ladies, Toronto began to feel like home to me rather than a pit stop. Trouble came into my picture-perfect world. I had it all planned out, you see. I wanted to graduate from the University of Toronto Faculty of Law and become a top-notch attorney specializing in Native American/Aboriginal issues. The way I see it, Aboriginal issues are Human Rights Issues. The Canadian Government's habit of boldly going into our Reservations and taking our resources without paying us is nothing short of theft. They're really big on doing us in like that in places like Quebec and Alberta. Sarah encouraged me to pursue my dream. My feisty Haitian-American sister drew parallels between the Civil Rights Movement which Black folks started in America decades ago and the fledgling Aboriginal Rights Movement of Canada. Sometimes, I envy Black folks for their resilience. Seriously. In America, they were once slaves. Now, one of their own is the President of the United States of America. A Black man in America wields more power than any White guy on the planet. I wish I could take whatever fire drives Black folks and insert it in my fellow Aboriginals. We're complacent, content to take scraps from the Canadian Government. Black folks in North America aren't like that. I've met Black lawyers, Black journalists and Black politicians in the City of Toronto, Province of Ontario, and the town of Montreal, Province of Quebec. Black folks in North America don't play around. That's why a Black woman was once Governor-General of the Confederation of Canada, and a Black man is Mayor of Amos City in Quebec. Would a Native guy or Aboriginal woman ever become Mayor or Chief of Police in a Canadian City? I doubt it. Not if my people continue with their laziness. Yeah, I was all fired up with my intense desire to right the wrongs done to my people. I so didn't have time for other things, like love. A lot of guys walk up to me in Toronto. It's not their fault. I'm tall and curvy, with big tits, wide hips and a big round butt. Sarah jokingly tells me that I'm the first Native chick she's seen with a "ghetto booty". I take that as a compliment. A lot of White guys in Toronto keep trying to get with me. I've never had sex with a White guy and I never will. They disgust me. Too-faced, all of them. They run around banging minority women, whether Black, Chinese, Arabic or Native, and yet they continue to treat minority communities like shit. I'm not giving my sweet Aboriginal pussy to the White man. He'll have to get his "red loving" somewhere else. Minority guys in Toronto seem drawn to me too, especially Mexican guys and Chinese guys. I don't like either. They keep mistaking me for a Hispanic broad. I'm one hundred percent Sioux. My eyes are Black, my skin is dark bronze, and my long Black hair runs all the way to my waist. What do I have to do, put a feather in my hair? I'm a Native woman, and nothing else. Got it? One day, I accompanied Sarah to the airport to get her younger brother Jacques. Sarah is always talking about the "knucklehead from Dade County". According to Sarah, Jacques does little more than smoke and chase White chicks in the City of Miami. He graduated from Miami-Dade College and doesn't seem interested in doing anything else with his life. His exasperated parents sent him to stay with his much older sister Sarah in the City of Toronto, hoping her good example would rub off on him. When I went to the airport to pick up Jacques with Sarah, I had an idea what kind of person he was. Merely from listening to her rants. I had no idea the Knucklehead from Dade County was a six-foot-three, big and sexy Black guy with dreadlocks and a thousand-watt smile. One look at him, and I felt hot in funny places. Hot damn. The dude was fine. Twenty three years old, with heartbreaker and skirt chaser written all over him. He walked up to his sister and gave her a bear hug. Then he looked me up and down, smiled and introduced himself as Jacques "the Main Man" Saint-Denis. I smiled as he crushed my hand in his huge palm. Jacques was very different from his quiet, friendly sister. The young man was brash and outspoken. And he kept referring to me as Pocahontas, even after I threatened to smack the living daylights out of him. Sarah laughed and told her brother to knock it off. That got Jacques's attention. He held up his hands, telling me he was just joking. I asked him how he'd feel if I referred to him as Thug-A-Licious. He got the message and seemed to understand, apologizing profusely. I told him everything was okay. He insisted that I join him and his sister for dinner that night. As far as first meetings went, this one left a lot to be desired. As I sat down with Jacques and Sarah inside Le Chateau, a Haitian restaurant in North Toronto, I learned a bit more about him. Jacques told us about a really tough semester he had at Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University, where he used to play Football. He transferred there a year and a half after graduating from Miami-Dade College. With a sad look on his face, he told us the reason why he washed out. It had something to do with a White chick named Karen Monroe, who apparently had a thing for Black athletes. Long story short, Karen's wealthy parents didn't take kindly to her dating Jacques. And they took their frustrations out on him by using their power to get him thrown off the football team. He basically lost everything because of that White slut. I listened to him talk, shaking my head. Why do minority guys like White women so much? It doesn't matter if they're Black, Hispanic, Arabic, Asian or Native, they all want White women. Why? The look on Sarah's face seemed to echo my own thoughts. A young Native guy named Scott got in trouble over a slutty White chick back in Winnipeg. Although the charges against him were eventually dropped, he became a pariah in the City. Jacques looked Sarah and I in the eyes and told us he was done with White women. Sarah scoffed, telling him she'd heard that before. Jacques chuckled, and made a point of buying a couple copies of Black Enterprise and Essence Magazines. And he ogled the pretty Black ladies on the covers. Sarah shook her head and excused herself, she had to go home to her husband and son. Jacques rose and gave his older sister a kiss on the cheek. Sarah touched my shoulder before leaving. And just like that, she left me alone with her lecherous younger brother. I looked at Jacques, shaking my head. I have zero sympathy for minority guys who get in trouble over White women. I think White women are overrated. Seriously. So many beautiful Black women, Hispanic women, Asian women, Arabic women and Native women out there. Why chase those sickly pale Euro-trash sluts? Must be something in the water that minority guys drink. They all suffer from I-crave-White-women syndrome! Jacques's attitude changed completely once his sister left us. He got all serious and thoughtful, asking me all kinds of questions about the University of Toronto and the City's politics. I smiled at that. I didn't figure him for an academic or political junkie. Jacques told me that his last romance sent his life into a tailspin and he became a member of the Nation of Islam as a result. I found that peculiar, and told him as much. His bullshit didn't fool me for a minute. He got hurt by a woman, so he took refuge in Islam. A patriarchal religion which wasn't exactly known for upholding women's rights. Jacques seemed pissed off. He smiled dangerously and told me that the sacred tenets of Islam held that men and women were created equal. He also told me he didn't agree with Islam on everything. That got my curiosity piqued. Jacques laughed and told me he was uncircumcised and had no desire to change that. How's that for a disagreement with Islam? I gulped down my apple juice. Haitians are really into giving you too much info sometimes. I didn't need to know that about Jacques. I really didn't. The more we talked, the more I found things about him I intensely liked and disliked. Jacques told me that he strongly believed minorities across America should unite behind Barack Obama to defeat the racist radicals of the Tea Party Movement. He saw the Tea Party Movement's men and women as nothing but a bunch of racist White people afraid to lose their power. I smiled at him. Finally, Jacques and I agreed on something! We really got into it, discussing everything from Obama's meteoric rise in International Politics to America's war against minorities and immigrants, and the rise of xenophobia in Europe. I told Jacques that I feared Canada wasn't far behind. Soon radical Canadians would unite to screw over ethnic minorities, especially Blacks and Aboriginals, the two most hated and mistreated groups in human history. Jacques's eyes narrowed. In a deep voice filled with conviction he told me that we couldn't let that happen. I smiled, and told him I was starting a Coalition at the University of Toronto. A force that would unite minority students in the City of Toronto for positive change, support and political awareness. Jacques eagerly joined. Man, we must have talked our butts off that first night. Sarah left us together at six in the evening. It was well after nine when we left the restaurant. Jacques and I walked through the City of Toronto together. He marvelled at the magnificent Metropolis I called home. We walked for hours, checking out the sights and sounds. We walked through malls, parks and urban centers. Before we parted ways, we exchanged cell phone numbers and email addresses. That night, I would add Jacques on Facebook. I was all set to shake his hand and wish him goodnight. He pulled me close in the Haitian manner and kissed me on the cheek. I froze, totally stunned by this sudden move. I smiled hesitantly. Jacques grinned and told me he was glad his sister Sarah had a friend like me. Then he shook my hand, and told me he'd see me on campus. I nodded, and watched him go. Hot damn. He was equally good-looking no matter which angle you viewed him front. And the guy had a spectacular ass! And that's how it began, folks. Jacques and I became fast friends. I became his guide at the University of Toronto, helping him with his class schedule. Canadian Universities differ from American schools. The rules are stricter in Canada. Even in a laid back town like Toronto. Jacques had trouble adjusting to that, so I helped him. In return, he drew me into his world. The guy was full of surprises. He was taking up Criminology at the University of Toronto because he wanted to study Law someday like his adored big sister. Also, he wanted to prove to his parents back in Miami that he wasn't just a screw-up. The guy had big dreams and a lot of ambition. Well, he is American after all. He's a big help with the Coalition, which surprised me. Jacques had the gift of gab. The guy could talk anyone into almost anything. I watched him talk to the Chinese students, the Black students and the Arab students. Three of the main groups at the University of Toronto, and they didn't always get along. Jacques somehow made friends across diverse categories, and brought them together. The guy was a natural born politician, and he didn't even know it. I was amazed. Jacques continued to amaze me in other ways. That first semester at the University of Toronto, he was steadfast in his academic focus. His sister Sarah was stunned when he began making Dean's List every semester. An honour reserved for the very best students. Sarah and I sat down one afternoon, discussing ( what else) Jacques. She was amazed by the change in him. True to his word, Jacques shunned White women and focused on school. All he did was work as a Librarian's assistant at school, go to class and help me with the Coalition. And he was immensely popular on campus. The guy had chicks fawning over him. Black women. White women. Chinese women. Arab women. They all wanted a piece of the Black American stud who was rocking the campus. And guys across racial lines were envious. Jacques didn't seem to care. He told me he was focusing on what mattered, and I readily accepted that. I kept pestering Sarah with questions about Jacques's private life, or lack thereof. And the sharp-minded Haitian-American gal saw right through me. Sarah smiled at me and asked me if I was in love with her brother. I could have lied and said no, but Sarah is too insightful for that. And I respect her too much. I smiled sheepishly and said yes. I am in love with Jacques. Sarah smiled, and squeezed my hand. Was that her way of giving me her blessing? I think so! Okay. Now things are a bit clearer. I want Jacques. These days, he doesn't seem to want anyone. How do I get through that? One night, I gathered my courage, put my sexy on, and went after my intended man. I invited Jacques to my apartment for TV and some pizza. Nothing out of the ordinary there. We hang out together fairly often. He was really surprised at the way I greeted him at the door, though. This sexy tomboy traded her masculine Tees and 'butch' pants for a sexy red dress. I think Jacques's jaw dropped when he saw me. Before he could say anything, I kissed him. And you know what? He actually kissed me back! I don't recall what I said to him, or what he said to me, and I don't think it matters at this point. We kissed passionately, and when our lips parted, we looked into each other's eyes. Jacques looked at me with surprise in his eyes. I told him that I wanted him. He hesitated, and told me that he wanted me too but respected me too much to risk our friendship. What the fuck? My macho Haitian-American sounded like something out of a romantic comedy. If his mind seemed to struggle with the reality that I wanted him, his body seemed all for it. I could feel his erection through his pants. I took Jacques's face in my hands, and told him that a good fuck between friends wasn't such a bad thing. Especially since we cared for each other and respected each other. He grinned mischievously, and kissed me. And next thing I know, we were in my bed. I tossed off my red dress in a fluid motion and leapt into the bed, making myself comfy. Jacques stood there, hastily unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his pants. Just as I thought, he wasn't wearing underwear. My sexy Haitian-American stud leapt into my bed, naked as a jay bird. I smiled and pulled him to me. We kissed again, and I felt his big and surprisingly gentle hands caress my breasts. He kissed a path from my lips to my neck before suckling on my tits. He flicked his tongue over the areolas, teasing me. I lay there, enduring this sweet torment as my sexy stud began exploring my body. Soon he had my big legs spread, and was sniffing and nibbling at my pussy. He parted my gentle folds, and began licking me in my sweet spot. He slid one finger inside of me, then two. I gasped at the intrusion, and urged him to go on. Jacques laughed and slid three fingers inside my cunt, extracting moans and squeals from me as he explored my pussy. Oh, yeah. Jacques knew his way around the female body. I could tell it had been a while for him. Well, it had been forever for me. Last time I got properly fucked, I think Obama was still running for office and Clinton had a snowball's chance in Hell of beating him. Both my guy and I began making up for lost time. Jacques played with my wet pussy like a piano virtuoso. I was squealing in delight as he worked his magic on me. Man, I was so ready for more. I looked at his dick. It was big and Black, and uncircumcised just like he told me, so long ago. I couldn't wait to feel him inside of me. First, I had to taste him, though. Jacques lay on the bed, resting not so peacefully as I went to work on him. I took his thick cock in my hand and stroked it. Slowly, I inserted the head into my mouth. The Haitian-American stud licked his lips and urged me to continue. I stopped and smiled. I believe in taking my time. Jacques stopped interrupting me, and I continued sucking him off. I massaged his ball sac as I sucked his dick. Man, he was really feeling what I did to him. Soon he was screaming in pleasure in English, French and Profane. Hmmm. Who knew he was trilingual? When Jacques finally erupted, I drained him. Oh, yeah. I licked up every drop of his masculine essence. He tasted yummy. Saltier and hotter than other guys I'd been with. No two men smell or taste exactly alike, you know. A Native American Goddess in Love It's my life! Those are the thoughts running through Amanda Ahtunowhiho's head as she walked through the University of Utah campus. The tall young Native American woman briskly walked through the crowded campus, wandering how in hell so many otherwise intelligent people could be so backwards in this day and age. Amanda recalled the conversation her proud Cheyenne mother Hannah had with her on the subject of interracial dating. Mom basically told her not to bring home one of 'those Black people'. Anyone except a Black guy, that was her mom's statement. Apparently, when Amanda was dating Josh, a handsome, if culturally insensitive white guy, it had been okay with her proud Native American parents. Amanda had basically stormed off after telling her mom she would do whatever she wanted, and hadn't been home ever since. That was the first day of April 2011. A day she would never forget. Amanda sat in the library, watching people go by. She saw white guys with Asian women, Black guys with White women, and sometimes Black women with White guys. It never ceased to amaze her how interracial dating seemed really okay to most people when the male half of the pair was Caucasian and the female half was a minority of some sort. However, the moment the male half of the interracial couple was Black, people, including other minorities, tended to have a problem. Well, Amanda hadn't planned on falling in love with Steve D'Orville, the handsome young Haitian man from the City of Montreal, Quebec. Steve was Canadian, and had recently transferred to the University of Utah from Concordia University in his native Quebec. With his cute French accent, his impeccable manners and his charming smile, he was unlike anyone she had ever met. The church-going, geeky-yet-handsome guy simply took her breath away. They had some of the same classes together. He was a civil engineering major, and so she was she. The civil engineering program at the University of Utah was one of the best in the country. It attracted many international students from places like the Confederation of Canada and Australia. Hence, the presence of a Canadian guy on this very American campus. Steve D'Orville was new to Salt Lake City, and he didn't know anybody in town with the exception of his aunt Judith and her husband Leonard. He was desperately lonely on campus, and Amanda took an interest in him. They became fast friends, and eventually, surprisingly, their friendship deepened into more. Amanda had never been into Black guys. For most of her life, she dated Native American guys, White guys and occasionally Chinese-American guys. There were quite a few Black guys on the University of Utah campus but most of them were dating Black women. A few of them were dating White women. They didn't seem to notice that Native American women existed, though a few of them fancied Asian women. Black and Native American didn't seem to mix in the diverse yet deeply secluded world of the University of Utah campus. Yet somehow, the proud Native American chick fell in love with the Black guy from Canada. And the world simply didn't seem ready for them, even in an age where a Black man is President of the United States of America. Amanda sat there, her mind racing. She thought of Steve, and smiled. How she cherished him. Six feet two inches tall, beefy, with long hair braided into neat dreadlocks, and the geekiest glasses known to man. He was ruggedly handsome. A thoughtful brother who spoke seven languages, including Spanish, Haitian Creole and French. He was also one of the brightest students at the University of Utah. The professors were amazed at his academic prowess. They simply weren't used to dealing with good-looking, 'articulate' young Black men who knew more about the world than the eggheads on the faculty. And Steve took a sweet pleasure in wowing them at every turn. Amanda learned through Steve D'Orville that young Black men from the Confederation of Canada were something else. Smart, studious, and open-minded. Steve told her about his hometown of Montreal in the Province of Quebec. A Canadian town which immigrants from places like the Republic of Haiti, Mexico and China seemed to wresting from the hands of the French Canadian population. He told her about all the Black lawyers, Black doctors and Black politicians he grew up around. Most of whom were of Haitian descent, like him. His people were a tough bunch, capable of surviving and even thriving under conditions where ordinary human beings would easily die. Amanda found herself fascinated by this guy who knew so much about the world. He was very proud of his people, the way she wished more of her fellow Native Americans would be. Unfortunately, most Native Americans living in the United States embraced the White man's ways and viewed the ways of their Tribes as backwards and outdated. Steve told Amanda a surprising fact about his people. After the Haitians destroyed the French forces which once dominated them and established the first Independent Black Republic in the New World, they looked for the remnants of Native Americans on the island of Haiti. They uncovered the story of Anacaona, a Native Princess who ruled the island of Haiti at the time of Columbus. Though she perished at the hands of the European colonists after leading an uprising against them, she was viewed by the Haitians as a sacred person centuries later. Haitians had immense respect for all things Native American, a fact which stunned Amanda. Especially considering the fact that many Native Americans held very negative views of Blacks in America. Even though Black Americans struggles and victories through the Civil Rights Movement benefited all people of color, including Native Americans and immigrants from Asia, Latin American, the Caribbean and the Middle East. Steve showed her that Native Americans had a lot to thank Black folks for, even though they didn't realize it. Yeah, the guy was all that and a bag of chips. How could she not love him? Especially since he wasn't just a good-looking smooth-talker. He was also a killer in the bedroom. Amanda smiled as she thought of Steve making love to her. He would lick her from her head to her toes, and suckle at her breasts while fingering her sweet pussy. Then he would lick her pussy and finger it until she squealed in delight. And he never tired of putting her on all fours, face down and ass up, before slamming his big Black dick into her pussy. Hell, he even introduced her to the wonders of backdoor sex. Oh, yeah. He would spread her butt cheeks and lubricate her before pressing his dick against her asshole. Then he would work his dick into her ass, taking his sweet time. Amanda felt a sexual thrill run through her as she remembered the deliciously sweet pain of Steve's thick, uncircumcised cock in her ass. Oh, yeah. He was simply amazing. And she knew it. Amanda was pulled out of her reverie by a gentle tap on her shoulder. She turned around, to see...him. Tall, dark and handsome. Wearing a bright red silk, dark grey tie shirt and navy blue silk pants. Steve. Her man. He smiled and gestured for her to come to him. Grinning, Amanda leapt into his arms. They kissed passionately, well aware that many students from the University of Utah were watching them. And they didn't care. Let them stare if they wanted to. Amanda took Steve's hand in hers, and they began the long walk back to his dorm. She'd never been happier. A Native American Goddess Jacques was still breathing heavily when I told him to get ready for round two. I took his still hard cock and put a condom on him. Yeah, I keep them in my nightstand drawer. Jacques laughed, and I told him I was always prepared. Then I climbed on top of him. Jacques lay there, eying me carefully as I took his thick cock and placed it inside my pussy. Then I began riding him. It had been forever since I had a dick inside my pussy. And I've never had one like Jacques before. The big and tall Black stud placed his big hands on my very wide hips and thrust his dick deep into me. I supported myself by putting my hands on his broad shoulders and rode him hard. Like a cowgirl on a bucking bronco I rode him. Jacques made sexy grunting noises as he slammed his dick into me, telling me he wanted to tear up my cunt. I told him to tear up my sweet Native pussy, and he didn't need to be told twice. He slammed his cock into me like fucking was going out of style. It was absolutely fucking amazing. Man, I lost track of how long we fucked. It was great, though. When I came to, Jacques lay next to me, fast asleep. I grinned. Looks like my killer Native pussy put the whammy on this Black stud. I guess I've still got that old Indian magic. When Jacques woke up, I served him breakfast in bed. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. I asked him if he wanted to be fuck buddies. He scoffed, and told me he wanted much more than that from me. The Haitian-American stud looked me straight in the eyes and told me he'd wanted to make me his for a long time. I stared at him askance. Make me his....as in us becoming boyfriend and girlfriend? Jacques smiled and nodded. I smiled and kissed him. Neither of us ate breakfast that night. Food was the furthest thing from my mind as Jacques put me on all fours, caressed my thick round ass and then took me from behind. I think our screams of passion woke up half of Toronto that morning, but I couldn't be sure. All I know is that after he fucked me that second time, I walked with a slight limp for days. And loved it! Later that day, I saw Sarah, while Jacques and I were walking through the University of Toronto campus together, hand in hand. She smiled at us, saying it's about time we got together. Jacques lovingly kissed his older sister on the cheek. Then the three of us went to the nearby Tim Horton's for breakfast. I'm afraid Jacques and I really messed up my apartment. I sat inside the restaurant with Sarah and Jacques, feeling at peace for the first time in my life. And why shouldn't I feel at peace? I'm sitting with my best friend and the man that I love. What could be better than this? This was just the beginning. A year later Jacques and I got hitched. We live together in Brampton, a few blocks away from his sister and her husband. We're one big happy family.