Mr. Wrong

So there I was, on a stage with two other men, being asked ridiculous questions by a woman I couldn't see, but whose voice made my pants tighten - and not around my ankles. Before I knew what was happening, I'd signed up for six weeks in paradise, isolated on an island for 42 days with a complete stranger. And when I finally laid eyes on the sexy brunette who belonged to that voice, a part of me thought this wouldn't be so bad.

It all started in a barn, rolling around in the hay with a hot brunette. When I hooked-up at my best friend's wedding with the bride's best friend, I had hay in places it should never be. And how my bowtie ended up around my dick was an entirely different story. I'll give you a minute to consider the possibilities. That first romp set the tone, and with each of our sexual encounters that followed they became more risque. The fact that all my fantastic orgasms were coming at the hand of one woman blew me away.

Falling in love was the furthest thing from my mind. I'm a single mother raising a strong little boy, and he is my one and only priority. The universe felt otherwise, sending me - actually, my son's soccer ball - hurdling toward a stunningly handsome, perfect man who said all the right things. He made it hard to ignore how much I missed romance.

I'd been known to have my share of beautiful women. Usually, I met them in a bar, through a mutual acquaintance, or even when photographing them. Imagine my surprise when a gorgeous blonde drove her car into mine on the way to a party. No more than a minute after our run-in, a string of colorful words flew from her mouth in rapid fire. Inexplicably, the angrier she became, the harder I got. All sorts of scenarios played in my head of how I could get her to shut up. When I learned she was a school teacher, that worsened my disposition.