Hurricane Season Boyfriend Nominations '10

You just never know what the turbulent Atlantic waters are going to bring to South Florida each year. Yes, this is actual driftwood, photographed at Matheson Hammock Park in Coral Gables.

Ladies, it's that time of the year again! Hurricane season starts June 1st and all us single women are left to fend for ourselves in gale force winds and the aisles of Publix.

If you're a new reader and don't know what a Hurricane Season Boyfriend is, here's a recap:

Since 2006, Sex and the Beach has been searching for the perfect man to accompany us from June 1 to November 30. He should be great in bed, handy with tools, devoted and loving even when both of you have to sleep in a mosquito-infested tent in the backyard after law-enforced curfew, exhausted from walking two miles to buy a price-gouged bag of ice that melted by the time you got home.

If you've experienced a serious hurricane followed by an eternity of power outages, you know there's nothing else to do in the aftermath besides boinking and counting the no-see-ums staging a circus on Wonder Bread slathered with peanut butter. Single women without lovers are cruelly cheated by fate and miss out on this endearing experience!

So here's the thing: you can't nominate your cousin Pepito who works at the Walmart in Hialeah (not that you would know he's great in bed) or the metrosexual valet guy from Yolo's (whom you wish you could find out if he was great in bed). Nope. Preferably, our ideal Hurricane Season Boyfriend is someone well known whom we can all share in our collective imaginations.

Past Hurricane Season Boyfriends have been luminaries in the pantheons of grace and disgrace.


Last year, we featured hunky priest Padre Alberto, a man of the cloth who put the "loin" in "loincloth" if you know what I mean. We don't really care about his fall from grace because he's hawt and honestly, if anyone could put in a good word with the Lord to steer that category five mother fucker out into the Atlantic, it'd be him.


We've also given props to Harry Connick, Jr. because who doesn't want to be rescued in a flood zone by a crooner with great biceps?


And speaking of biceps, we never doubted Chef Robert Irvine could command and deliver.

So you get the picture. Put your thinking caps on and think of one famous (or infamous) man you wouldn't mind spending the next six months with. Leave comments below!