Taming Mr. Flirt
Here’s a tip: never say never.
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 each sexual encounter with her that followed became more intense. The fact that all my fantastic orgasms were coming at the hand of one woman baffled me.
A lifetime of observation taught me that monogamy equated to boredom. Variety was the spice of life, in and out of the bedroom. I enjoyed the company of a sexy, smart, confident woman. It was my kryptonite. I was a master flirt, and my sexual skills were unrivaled.
With this woman, I had met my match.
Her carnal appetite a perfect match for mine, and she also taught me a few things along the way.
She called me Mr. Flirt, and could bring me to my knees at every turn.
Lesson learned: Sex always trumps sanity.
Here’s a tip: never underestimate romance.
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.
In the past, when I met a man, they ran as soon as they heard I was a widow with a child. Not this guy. No, he fell in love with my son, and in turn, my son fell in love with him. But, it was hard to believe he felt the same about me. My job was to be the strong one—to protect our hearts from sweet dreams that never lasted.
Women told me I was a master of romance. They were right. I knew how to sweep a woman off her feet, to make her feel special, and good in all the right places. I wasn’t a saint. I’ve had my share of one-night stands. They served their purpose, giving me a steady diet of romance without the hassle of commitment.
Then one day at the park, a soccer ball came careening toward my head, and my life changed in an instant. I never imagined that true love would come in the form of a five-year-old little boy. And then I got to know his mother: She was strong, independent, drop-dead gorgeous, and someone I desired – I just needed to prove it to her.
She called me Mr. Romeo, and that was fine with me.
Lesson learned: Love always trumps everything.