School psychologists aren’t supposed to write books about sex. Doing so would be considered “unethical” and “a fireable offense.” Lucky for you, ethics was never my strong suit. After spending years trying to spice up my sex life, I gave up and took to my journal. Perhaps my gorgeous, cold, number crunching husband simply wasn’t capable of the kind of passion I’d come to expect. After all, my ex-boyfriends—a skinhead turned US Marine turned motorcycle club outlaw, a baby-faced punk rocker out on parole, and a heavy-metal bass player—were every bit as tattooed and testosterone-fueled as the leading men in my favorite romance novels. If I couldn’t have that kind of passion again in real life, at least I could write about it. Right? Nobody had to know. It would be my little secret. Well, guess what? My husband read that shit. And guess what else? He upped his fucking game. Drunk with power and under the dubious advisement of my best friend and colleague, I began testing the limits—crafting journal entries specifically designed to manipulate Ken’s behavior. For the most part, he responded beautifully…except when he didn’t. Told through actual journal entries, steamy short stories, personal emails, a few haikus, and at least one dirty limerick, 44 Chapters About 4 Men chronicles the year I spent toying with my husband’s mind and ignoring all ethical standards of psychology. I decided to publish it in the hopes that someone out there might benefit from my discovery—or at least laugh at it—but in doing so I’m risking more than just my career. If word of this book gets back to Ken, I could lose the very man I’ve worked so hard to perfect.
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