Places like New York or Tokyo abound with museums, art galleries, movie houses, universities, and large pools of single people who hope to meet the same. Something else, however, awaits those looking for it—more opportunities for adultery than in small towns. And it is the same with the Internet. It isn’t just that straying wives and husbands can use those identity-stripping computers in Finland to make swap shopping easier. More importantly, the Internet teems with bright, funny, people who hate convention, including, in some cases, marriage. For a stretch, a support-style mailing list came across as a Peyton Place in cyberspace. A man and a woman met there. He told her he would be leaving his wife and children. She spent that weekend with a _third_ member of the list; after the original man publicly confessed, she popped up out of the blue to give her side. If anyone doubted that computers could bring people together in person, this was proof positive in the worst way. Most members of the list were horrified. They pleaded for Peyton Placers to go offline. Clearly the Internet does not turn people into saints—it just makes it easier to do what comes naturally, good or bad. But some context, please. The same Net could bring together old-fashioned romantics. As shown by the Smith-Olson pairing, the Net could actually _strengthen_ traditional values among those who so inclined. Besides, much of the illicit action on the Net was by the mutual consent of husbands and wives. When I ventured into a seamy area called alt.personals.poly, I saw an ad posted by a swinging couple from Florida. “I am 6′3″ brown haired, considered attractive,” said Hank*, the husband. “She is 5ʹ0″ busty, blonde, blue eyes, very pretty. We’re not weird or disturbed or wanting to beat people, hahaha. We are very sensual, passionate, and are good at ya know the fun stuff.” Was this the ’Bahn that Bill and Al had in mind for us? Not quite. But it wasn’t as if some pervert was cheating on his wife and hiding behind an anonymous server while lusting for a nineteen-year-old coed who was new to both life and the Net. Although I did not condone Hank’s swinging, I actually felt a little sorry for him after he wrote me a short but touching letter: He told how a woman had stood him up and the Missus. Better luck next time, Hank.