I resisted doggedly for a month, fought the urge, battled the temptation. I vowed to ignore my silly prurient interests. No, I would not write about the Eliot Spitzer sex scandal. Humiliation and stupidity speak for themselves -- and we've all been there.
But . . .
My friends, devoted wives all, have been persistent in their curiosity. Our conversations, however serious, meander to the lowbrow: What does a man really get when he pays $4,300 for sex?
Inquiring minds want to know. So, probably, do worried hearts.
What can possibly happen in the bedroom -- or, for that matter, in the back seat of the car or in a hotel suite -- that costs so much money? More money than many people make in a month.
No, this is not a column about technique. Sorry. You might try some hotline or backdoor manual for that. This is about relationships and what we can do to add pizazz to the stale, the tired, the been-there-done-that ordinariness of our lives.
But first things first. That $4,300 tab quoted in the media? It's really not that much money, not in the sex trade. In fact, reports say Spitzer got a bargain. Sex sessions, from minutes to a couple of hours, can go for $10,000.
As you'd expect, these exorbitant figures have spawned plenty of societal soul searching. Psychologists have analyzed the mind -- and sex drive -- of powerful men. They've examined the role of the cuckolded public wife. And experts have even offered irrefutable proof that all species cheat on their mates and that, in evolutionary terms at least, we can't help it if we stray.
But that's not what we women need to know. In the end, after all the analysis and debate, we're intrigued about why men, even those who should know better, seek the company of Another Woman -- and then pay for it dearly.
Turns out, it's not always about the sex, at least not when you're paying the big bucks. Sudhir Venkatesh, a sociology professor at Columbia University who has studied prostitutes in various cities, reports that high-end sex workers don't always have sex with their johns. About 40 percent of transactions in New York, he writes in Slate.com, don't go beyond light petting or kissing. In other words, no intercourse.
Think about that: Cash, and lots of it, for no sex. Defies the common gutter-level imagination.
Apparently, these moneyed johns like a good conversation. They want to be heard. They want to sound fascinating and feel important. Venkatesh puts it quite succinctly: The men ``may simply want to be treated like King for a Day.''
Don't we all.
If you are to believe this, there is then a lesson to be learned in this Spitzer morality play. Cleverness, accomplishments and intelligence don't seem to count for much. Good looks may be optional, too. To keep your man, to bewitch him for an eternity, it's more important to learn how to fake it.
Admire him.
Coax back those starry-eyed stares of your early dates. Nod in wonder when he waxes eloquently about the wars he wages and the dragons he slays. Do not bother with questions. Forget the interruptions. Don't mention the clogged toilet, the rebellious teenager, the worrisome call from the gynecologist.
Ladies, give your man your undivided, adoring attention -- even, and especially, if you've heard the story so many dang times that you can recite it as easily as your evening prayers.
Let me know if it works.
