I actually heard the interview about the site I describe in the story, on NPR. The woman makes almost four million a year.
And there's almost no sex, but there is a cheating wife, so I think it fits this category. And if it were your wife, what would you do?
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I was an NPR junkie, hardly ever listening to regular radio. Lately I had been listening to a program featuring people who were doing well in the bad economy.
One guy started out with a van, cleaning out and repairing abandoned houses that were in foreclosure. Now he had eight box trucks and a crew of twenty and still can't keep up.
The one I remembered most was the one that offended me terribly.
It was a website designed to introduce people who wanted to cheat on their spouses.
"It's not a cheaters site. We provide a discreet introduction service. They read each others' profile, and if they like it, they email each other, privately. Of course we have different categories, some things appeal to some but not others. Actually, the second most popular section is called Date Night.
"It's for people who want to experience others without actual sex taking place. Some use it as a stepping stone to more serious encounters. Others are quite content to just date and go separate ways, sometimes with just a handshake or a chaste kiss."
The host was intrigued.
"Aren't you the least bit concerned about the moral aspect? It's like you're encouraging and facilitating the destruction of marriages."
She wasn't deterred.
"We don't encourage anything, we just offer the opportunity to explore options. There again, once the contact is made on our site, they must immediately leave and go private. No exceptions. Anyone caught violating that rule will be banned from the site for life."
"Tell me, do you ever face litigation?"
You could hear her smirk on the radio.
"People have tried, but they've all been thrown out of court. All we do is allow like minded people to communicate. And again, their actions after they leave the site is not our responsibility. They've been carefully screened, and they are consenting adults. No one is forced to use this site."
The host finished the interview.
"Well despite what people think of your business, it's been very successful. Before we go, I understand you did a survey to determine who is most likely to cheat. Can you share those results?"
"Sure. Remember this isn't scientific, we just asked our members to participate in some research. We had one hundred eighty one thousand members respond. I have a friend that's a detective, and when I showed him the results he laughed."
"It's like a crime," he said. "Motive and opportunity."
She went on to explain.
"The number one profession likely to step outside the marriage are realtors. Think about it. Erratic schedules, available spaces for their encounters, a multitude of opportunities."
"Second were lawyers. Again, scheduling and opportunities."
"Third was health care professionals, fourth were people in services like construction, especially plumbers."
"The fifth group were stay at home parents and the unemployed. There you go, motive and opportunity. Curiously, people who travel professionally made up a very tiny segment. And one more tidbit, most members range from thirty two to the middle fifties. I guess the seven year itch theory is often fact."
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I told my wife about it later, as I did most things I found interesting. We were both in our late forties, and had been married for twenty four years. Two children, one each, the youngest a freshman in college, the oldest set to graduate in a few months.
Mary wasn't a model, but she still retained her figure, going to the gym more often since the kids were gone, and had just a few strands of gray in her blonde hair. Outgoing, friendly, she was a good neighbor, watching out for the two elderly couples that lived on our street. She worked, we weren't wealthy, as a receptionist for an auto parts manufacturer.
I had a good job, making decent money considering I never went to college, working for a building supply company that catered to manufactured housing. I had been there fourteen years.
About six months ago one of our crew retired. One of our largest customers had a monster development at the beach, and it was cheaper to order the parts necessary directly from us and have them delivered. They were such a big customer we bought one of those box trucks and made a weekly run. We delivered on Friday, so the crews would have the materials ready to go on Monday.
They posted the job but I didn't ask for it, it required overnight travel and I liked sleeping at home.
The boss gave it to a young guy that loved the beach, but he liked it so much he found a job there and abandoned the van and disappeared.
The next driver, also young, had a beer too many and wrecked the truck. My boss called me into his office.
"Bill, I'm not gonna beat around the bush. I need someone dependable to make these runs, someone who knows the business. I'm going to ask you to do it for a few weeks, as a favor to the company. We'll run an ad, see if we can find someone. Will you do it?"
I finally agreed, after they changed my hours. I had been working four tens and having a three day weekend. Now I worked four eights, drove the truck home on Thursday, Left at five in the morning on Friday, drove the four and a half hours, and delivered the material. Sometimes I delivered to their little warehouse and was done by one or two, sometimes I had to deliver to individual sites, but was still usually done by five. I was paid for twelve hours, unless I worked more. I was given money for lunch, dinner, and breakfast the next day plus my room, and paid for the four and a half hours it took to drive home.
Mary wasn't too fond of it at first, It cut into our home life quite a bit. I worked it out where every third week someone else drove it, and once a month or so Mary would take a vacation day and make the trip with me. Those days we would spend another night, paid for by us, and drive home Sunday.
Three months went by and I stopped by the office one Thursday to see if I needed to take any documents with me, warranties, changes in the housing codes, anything that seemed relevant. While I was there, I asked how they were progressing on my replacement. The boss told me to pull up a chair and shut the door.
"We haven't had much luck, and I have to confess, we stopped looking. The developer loves you, the shipments are complete, and on the rare occasion something gets missed, you take the time to go to Lowes or Home Depot and make it right, if they have it available. When you looked over his warehouse and made suggestions to improve flow, he took it to heart."
He saw me frown, knowing what was coming.
"Don't say no right off the bat. If you take it, there's three dollars more an hour in it, and I'll agree that if you want your old job back in six months you can have it and keep the raise. Go home, talk it over with your wife."
We did talk about it. Mary didn't like it, but she liked the extra money coming in. Our house was almost paid off, and we agreed to put the extra money towards the principal every month. Plus, we both agreed that at the end of six months I'd go back to my old job.
I hated it, at first. Then I made a few friends, even got invited to dinner with the development owner and his wife.
I was never much of a drinker, so I didn't hang out in bars. At a suggestion from one of the contractors, I started eating dinner at a quiet family style place three blocks off the beach. A local hangout, not like the tourist traps on the main drag. It had a small attached pub that I usually had one beer in, and sometimes watched a game. It was baseball season, one of my favorite sports to watch. I made friends with the bartender and a few of the locals, enough to speak to them by name and exchange sports talk.
