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Brandon Clark is the name, and I'm a young black man living in the City of Winnipeg, Manitoba. My parents Jeffrey and Raquel Clark moved to Manitoba from the island of Jamaica in the late 1980s, and I was actually born in this beautiful land. A lot of people have been talking about race in the province of Manitoba lately, and they mostly weigh on the conflicts between Aboriginal Canadians and white people. I am not trying to take away from that, but as a brother living out here, I've experienced my share of hardship.

Want to know what I think? Everyone is racist to some extent, even though white people are by far the most vicious. When my older sister Jacqueline introduced the family to Vittorio, her Italian boyfriend whom she met while studying at McGill University in Montreal, my mother was overjoyed. Yet my mom was less than thrilled when I introduced her to the beautiful Aboriginal Canadian gal I have fallen in love with. My mother expressed disappointment in the fact that I didn't bring home a black lady. If that's not prejudice, I don't know what is.

The day I met my girlfriend Sooleawa "Sole" Okunnug, I definitely knew that she was the one for me. I was walking through the University of Winnipeg campus, desperately trying to find the campus library so I could print my Ethics assignment and leave it in the drop box of professor Melissa Morrigan, the witch who runs the criminal justice department. I don't mean to bad mouth female professors but some women relish the power they have over men in this day and age, and abuse it every chance they get.

"Excuse me please, do you know where the library is?" I asked a tall, dark-haired and bronze-skinned, kind of curvy young woman with lively brown eyes. The gal was definitely Aboriginal, and quite pretty. I looked at her sharply, wondering why in hell she was staring at me. Sorry, I was quite frustrated since I'd been wondering around campus for half an hour, and nobody I asked seemed to know where the library is. I'm guessing they just didn't want to tell me.

"Sure, I'll show you, I'm on my way there," the pretty, dark-haired lady replied, and I thanked my lucky stars and dutifully followed her. The University çanakkale escort of Winnipeg is like a small town and it's easy to get lost out here. I've lived in Winnipeg my whole life and prior to enrolling here, I'd never even been near the campus. I grew up in the seedy North End of Winnipeg, where the whites and the Aboriginals avoid each other like the damn plague.

"Thank you, lady, I swear, you're the only person who knows anything about this place," I said, and the young woman laughed, and shook her head but said nothing. We finally reached a massive brown building, and she nodded. I stood there, suddenly realizing that we were at the heart of the campus, and the rather massive library was rather hard to miss.

"Here we are, best of luck," said the pretty lady, and then she actually held the door open for me. I felt like a doofus so I opened the secondary door, and graciously held it for her. The young woman walked away, and I stood there, mesmerized by the graceful way that she moved. Damn that woman has an ass on her. Seriously, I haven't seen an ass like that since I jerked off to a video of African American porn starlet Cherokee D'Ass a while ago.

"Hope I see you again," I whispered, mostly to myself, as the pretty lady disappeared behind a corner. I headed to the computer area, and sat down, then logged onto my student account. I opened up my email, downloaded the saved document and then sent it to the printers. I used my student card to pay for the printing, then looked about for a stapler. Unable to find one, I returned to the front desk.

"Hello again," said the same pretty lady who'd guided me to the library just minutes before. I was stunned to see her sitting behind the desk, the consummate professional. Apparently, there are students working at this campus library, instead of just old people. I smiled at her, and read the nametag. Sooleawa. A name I will definitely have a hard time pronouncing. Nevertheless, I managed to pronounce it right as I asked the lady if she had a stapler.

"Here you go, you're the first person in ages to pronounce my name right," Sooleawa said with a smile, as she handed me a thick black çeşme escort stapler. I took it from her, smiled and stapled my paper, then handed the stapler back to her. I looked at the pretty lady, and when her brown eyes met mine, my heart skipped a beat. I've never been much of a smooth talker when it comes to the ladies.

"Thanks again for showing me the way, my name is Brandon," I said with a smile, holding my hand for Sooleawa to shake. After a brief hesitation, Sooleawa shook my hand. I wished her a good day, and walked away before I said something stupid. I blame my strict Catholic parents for my shyness and social awkwardness, folks. All the fine schools in Winnipeg and they had to send me to Saint Guillaume Academy, an all-male institution. What a world we live in, eh? As a result of my upbringing, I'm even more awkward around females than the average college freshman.

I was determined to get to know Sooleawa, and once I returned to my parents house, I looked her up on Facebook. I found her, and sent her a brief message which I hoped wasn't creepy. Just thanking her for being such a good Samaritan and all. What? It's perfectly normal to look up a lady on social media to thank her for helping you out. I didn't send Sooleawa a friend request since I figured that might be too much.

Imagine my surprise when, a few hours later, right as I was getting ready for bed, Sooleawa not only replied to my message but she also sent me a friend request. I eagerly accepted, and peered through Sooleawa's profile. I saw a picture of her on the beach, standing between a pair of skinny white guys. Instantly I was pissed, since I figured one of them had to be her boyfriend. I scrutinized the picture and noticed the rainbow boxers the guys were wearing, and smiled. These two white dudes are totally gay and Sooleawa is just a friend of theirs. Cool.

"Hello, lost pilgrim, nice running into you at school," read Sooleawa's reply to my initial message. I smiled and then wished her goodnight. I like to keep online conversations brief because I just met this chick and I have a bad habit of coming on too damn strong when I meet a lady I find interesting. Happened diyarbakır escort to me twice. Once with a mixed chick named Emma last year, and more recently with Jenny, an Asian gal I met over the summer. Short and simple, that's how you keep online chats with the ladies.

"Thanks again and goodnight," I wrote to Sooleawa, and then I logged off of Facebook, turned off the computer and went to bed. My parents are in Montreal, visiting my sister Jacqueline and the Italian dude she's so damn crazy about. I've met the dude and he is not all that. Of course, you can't tell that to my sister or my mother. My pops is polite but neutral, the way he always is when dealing with people outside our family.

The next time I ran into Sooleawa, it was Monday night and the campus library was closing. I approached her, and we smiled and talked for a bit before exiting together. I'd gotten a flyer from a Caribbean buddy of mine about a slam poetry event happening off campus, and held it in my pocket as I stood in front of Sooleawa, trying to work up the guts to ask for her number.

"Got something to show you," I said, and I pulled the flyer out of my pocket and gave it to Sooleawa. The pretty lady looked at it, smiled and then looked me up and down. This was the moment of truth, ladies and gentlemen. Would I be able to man up and ask for her digits, or would I spaz out like I used to in high school? Decisions, decisions.

"Cool, I love slam poetry, take my number and we'll link up and whatever," Sooleawa said, and then she smiled up at me. My heart skipped a beat and I pulled out my beat-up old Blackberry and punched in the numbers as dictated to me by the pretty lady. I smiled nonchalantly and told Sooleawa I'd be in touch, then wished her a good day. The pretty lady nodded, smiled and walked away. Am I smooth or what? Alright, don't answer that.

That night, as I lay on my bed, I thought of Sooleawa, the gorgeous young Aboriginal woman. I'm nineteen years old, and this is my second week at the University of Winnipeg in the City of Winnipeg, Manitoba. There's a lot going on in my town and in my life. The Metis guy who recently got elected Mayor of Winnipeg is asking folks around town to open up a dialogue about racial relations. My new school is big and confusing, and I haven't made any friends yet. Oh, and I'm still a virgin. I am going to change all of the above as soon as I can, especially the last part. Do wish me luck, though.