No Son of Mine: An Arab Tale

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You’re no son of mine! Those were the first words which left my father’s mouth when I finally told him my truth. My name is Nidal Abdul-Jabbar. I am twenty years old. I study business administration at the University of Ottawa in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I was born in the City of Khobar, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, but raised in the Confederation of Canada. Three months ago I revealed to my father Mohammed that I am bisexual. And thus found myself an outcast in the growing Arab community of Ottawa. Overnight, I went from being one of the most respected and admired young men in town to a virtual pariah.

I play Rugby for the University of Ottawa, and have excelled at the sport ever since my younger days. When my family moved to Canada, my love of sports helped me adapt to the changes we faced. There are many young men with a fondness for rugby in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Believe it or not, we do love sports, and many things that westerners doubt we’ve ever heard of. We do more than pray or curse the west for its wild and unpredictable ways. I am the son of two worlds. Of Saudi Arabia, the most conservative nation on the planet Earth, and of Canada, a rapidly changing North American country with an ever-evolving national identity. These days, I am a citizen of Canada but I’ve never forgotten my Arabic roots. The world won’t let me forget. As a six-foot-tall, slim young man with dark bronze skin, black hair and decidedly Persian features, I am as Arabic as can be.

When I told my friend Zanubiya that I wanted to come out to my father, she warned against it. I should have listened to her. However, I’ve always been stubborn. I’ve fully embraced the ways of the western ever since I moved to Canada. I smoke, drink, party hard and only attend religious ceremonies in the Mosque when my father basically forces me. And last but not least, I dared to follow my passions. For I am attracted to both men and women. I’ve known this about myself ever since I graduated from Saint Anthony Academy in Ottawa’s South End. I find both sexes beautiful. Last year, I dated a beautiful German woman named Faith Wambach. No relations to the world-famous American female soccer player. You should have seen her, man. Tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. She was taking up criminology at Carleton University. We had a whirlwind romance which ended when I came out to her üsküdar escort about my occasional sexual attraction to men.

After Faith dumped me, I basically retreated into myself. I was heartbroken, and the only person I could share this with was my good friend Zanubiya. She’s been my best friend ever since my family moved from Khodar to Ontario in 1999. This five-foot-six, plump and ever-jovial Sirah has been my friend and confidante since those early days. She’s from Algeria and I’m from Saudi Arabia. There are some tensions between our people but we’re alright. I’m ashamed to say that we haven’t always gotten along. Mainly because she’s the most peace-loving person on the planet and I believe in confronting things head on. When I first came to Ottawa, I would get into scuffles with some of the local white guys who had a distrust of Arabic men. I was proud of my Arabic heritage and not above kicking ass if I felt disrespected. I befriended some young men from Somaliland. I liked those Black Muslim guys. They are tough, and don’t take crap from the xenophobic bozos who think they run Canada. Offend them due to their race or their Muslim heritage and they will kick your ass. I’m proud to say I’ve been good friends with a Somali guy named Abdi Hashi ever since I moved to Ottawa. Together with Abdi and Zanubiya, I formed an Unholy Trinity.

At the University of Ottawa, we continued with our wild ways. We never drifted apart through the years like so many friends do. Zanubiya and I are at the University of Ottawa and Abdi is at Carleton University’s Institute of Criminology and Criminal Justice. He wants to be a police officer like his father, Ontario Provincial Police officer Kader Hashi. Abdi totally wants to follow in his father’s footsteps. My old man built the largest Mosque in the City of Ottawa, and he owns a real estate business with locations throughout Ontario. I don’t want to go into real estate, or lead the Islamic community. I just want to be me. Luckily, my friends let me be myself. Adbi and Zanubiya are totally accepting of my bisexuality. Abdi even introduced me to his gay cousin Amir, and though we dated a little while, we didn’t click. Amir was a little too clingy for me. The sex was awesome, though. I’ll say this about gay and bisexual Somali guys. They totally rock in the bedroom.

I tuzla escort don’t really have faith in relationships these days, especially gay relationships. After my father threw me out and froze my Royal Bank of Canada and TD Canada Trust Accounts, I found myself flat broke. Also, the money I sent to the University of Ottawa for the upcoming semester mysteriously vanished. I knew my old man had something to do with it. He was really mad about my coming out as bisexual and I felt his wrath. Where could I go? He had basically banned me from our house in the affluent suburb of Barrhaven. I was broke, jobless and homeless. Abdi was out of town. He was spending the rest of the summer in the City of Vancouver with some Jamaican chick named Monique. Again I asked myself. Where could I go? Fortunately, Zanubiya came to my rescue. She invited me to her place. A modest apartment in the Saint Laurent Area, not far from Vanier, which is to Ottawa what South Central is to Los Angeles. In other words, not the safest area in the world. At least that’s what the biased media says. I hang out in Vanier sometimes. The people, a mixture of Arabs, Somalians and Asians, are nice for the most part.

Zanubiya let me stay at her place, and I thanked her profusely. We packed what few belongings I had in her car and drove from Barrhaven to Vanier. Once we got there, she bade me welcome to her humble home. We sat in the living room, watching TV and sharing a beer after I got settled in. Zanubiya sat next to me, wearing a T-shirt and boxers. The Algerian gal is the most tomboyish Muslim chick I’ve ever met. Sporting a hijab and boxer shorts. How about that? We sat on the living room couch, watching Leverage on TV. Onscreen, my favourite characters, Parker and Hardison, shared a passionate kiss after getting away from danger. Zanubiya grinned, and told me it was about time those two got it on. I nodded. She smiled and did the last thing I expected. Zanubiya kissed me. I was surprised, to tell you the truth. But I kissed her back. When our lips parted, Zanubiya winked at me mischievously and told me she’d always wanted to do that.

I sat back on the couch and looked at her, stunned. Wow. My best friend just kissed me. Zanubiya told me that she’d always loved me, but never did anything about it because she didn’t want to endanger our friendship. pendik escort I smiled at her, and asked her what had changed now. Zanubiya shrugged, and told me she feared for my life when I told her I was coming out to my father. I smiled fatalistically, remembering my father shoving me and telling me I was not the son he raised alone after my mother died giving birth to me. Zanubiya must have misread the expression on my face, for she got up and her eyes looked moist. I got up, and held her hand as she tried to turn away. I looked into her eyes. My best friend’s eyes. The gal who helped me weather so many storms. The young woman who was always there for me when needed, no questions asked. I looked at her, really looked at her. And that’s when it hit me. Two things hit me, actually. One, Zanubiya was really beautiful, tomboyish gear and Muslim garb and all. Two, I was attracted to her. I moved closer, and tried to kiss her. Zanubiya pressed her hand against my chest, stopping me. She asked me what I was doing. I smiled, and told her that I loved her.

Zanubiya looked into my eyes. I looked into hers. Whatever she saw in my gaze, I think she liked it. For she pressed her lips against mine, and we kissed again. That night, we made love. Passionate love. I hadn’t been with a woman since Faith dumped me ages ago. Heck, I hadn’t been with anyone since she ditched me. I avoided both men and women because I was afraid of heartbreak. I wasn’t afraid with Zanubiya. She was my best friend who cared for me and would never hurt me. When morning came, it found us entwined in love. We had a lot to talk about in that awkward morning after. Awkward in the sense that it wasn’t awkward at all. Waking up in Zanubiya’s arms felt like the most natural thing in the world to me.

I got up and watched her big sexy butt in those shorts as she cooked breakfast. I walked up behind her, and wrapped my arms around her. Tenderly I kissed her hair, and her cheek. Zanubiya turned and kissed me on the lips. We smiled at each other. Yep, it was love alright. Without really looking for it, I found the lasting love I craved. With my best friend. The only woman who could love the arrogant, cocky and impulsive, openly bisexual Saudi Arabian University student that I am. I intend to make Zanubiya my wife, the mother of my future sons and daughters. When Abdi returns, he’s going to have a fit of laughter. He always said Zanubiya and I had a thing for each other and I guess the Somali womanizer is right. He’s going to be my best man. Oh, man. I’m getting ahead of myself here. Zanubiya is urging me to go on a job interview. She’s bossy but I like that about her. We’re going to be amazing together.

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