...a title I stole from an old Social Matter essay. I don't think the original author will mind, but the original essay came rocketing into my brain after having seen a FortWorthPlayboy tweet about a friend of his, which I will copy below:

Girls don't negotiate Slutty history with new Men in their lives. She'll naturally hide it from a HV Man she has set her sites on. I just witnessed a local slut move 5 states away to make a fresh start with a guy who's NONE the wiser. Both are incredibly happy.

I spent a few minutes thinking about that final line- as I lie, alone in my bed, with my cat and an aching groin (after hernia surgery several weeks prior). I enjoy my solitude; I like to be alone, but I can't help but wonder- likely due to inexcisable biological impulse- what it would be like to share a life with someone. Not just in the temporary, like starting a new season of a long running TV series, but... in the permanent.

I often wonder: is it possible to be happily married?

To write my book, I wanted to get to know women. I met different women; normal women. Once you get them talking, you realize that even the most normal of woman would have been considered a prostitute by a now obsolete social standard-at least at some point in their lives.

It would usually take a little cajoling to get these women to open up about their experiences. If you left it alone, you'd believe that they spend their weekend nights sitting on their hands, watching HULU and waiting for some nice boy to sweep them off their feet.

If you're reading this, right now, you'll know that isn't the case. I've known this for a long time... What I didn't know, until I was there, talking to these women, was that younger men use older women as a type of gas station bathroom of sex. A gas station bathroom, because, you sometimes need to use one- you never spend a lot of time there; literally just in and out- and you're mostly disgusted after.

Upon making this realization, I titled the corresponding essay Eternal September- because, once a woman begins going those these motions, there is likely no escape; I titled by book Welcome to Hell for obvious reasons:

A woman new on the scene will be enamored by the attention- so many options, often exceeding her wildest fantasies. A gym-rat in his early-thirties, looking to relieve a bit of stress after leaving the office; the twenty-four year old bartender; the frat guy cheating on his teenage girlfriend; everyone vapid and interchangeable, everyone with gaudy AOL screen names- all chasing a woman over forty. She always knew she could do better than her husband- and with the maturity of age, now she’s comfortable enough with her sexuality to indulge without regret.

Maybe men are meant to be naïve. Maybe any deviation from naivete can be understood as a demonic possession; the death of a man's soul; a vampiric infection rendering him the walking dead. A disease for which there is no cure, but I ask you this: can a man know the true nature of female sexuality and still be incredibly happy saddled with a female permanently?