When I had first come to the US I did not know many people. So one night as I was in bed with a magazine I saw an advertisement for a phone sex line. I called it up and began chatting with the phone sex operator. I told her I was 26 (even though I was younger) and that I practiced law. I also gave her a fake name. She also told me things about herself and assured me she wasn't lying. She asked me what I wanted to do and I suggested that we meet up. We realized we were both very different from each other's perceptions. As it turned out she was pregnant.
"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...

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