So everyone wants to know why Jon was crying.

Two weeks ago, I wrote about my friend Jon bawling his eyes out over a girl and how it wasn't that uncommon a thing for guys to do.

I got a lot of responses, with some calling Jon a "baby," "whiny" and other words that end in "y." But most wanted to know why Jon was crying in the first place, let alone in front of a group of guys.

In the beginning, I literally had trouble using the word in a sentence.

"I have a guh-guh . . ."

"A what?"

"A guh-guh-guhrl . . ."

"A girlfriend?"

"Yeah, that."

Harry: You realize, of course, that we can never be friends.

Sally: Why not?

Harry: What I'm saying is-and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form-is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.

Sally: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.

Harry: No, you don't.

Could I be friends with a woman I sort of wanted to see naked?

That was the question I found myself revisiting six years after I officially swore off attractive female friends.

Gentlemen, I found the answer.

It'll cost you. You'll have to go to New York City to get it. And it's not guaranteed to work the first time (it didn't for me).

But, believe it or not, it's legal. And it far surpasses the other gimmicks -- online dating and speed dating, cars and cash, smiles andcharm, hair gel and deodorant -- you've tried to meet women.

The answer, gentlemen, is the Wingwoman.

Second of two parts.

And you thought all the former Soviet Union had to offer was cheap vodka.

Not so. Thanks to the Internet, former Soviet countries are offering their women for low, low prices! Why buy tasteless Russian vodka when you can buy a hot Russian wife?

Wait, don't answer that. First, a little background.

First of two parts.

They wanted to spend the rest of their lives with me, have my children, cook my meals and knit my clothes.

This was quite a switch from Yahoo Personals, where women seemed to mysteriously delete their profiles every time I contacted them.

Some people literally tried to talk me out of it.

"Oh," they said. "You don't want to go to THAT gym."

There's nothing illegal or shady about THAT gym. In fact, it's one of the nicest in the area.

Instead, "that" referred to its reputation as a "gay gym."

There comes a point in every single person's life when you question whether this whole monogamy thing really makes any sense.

Now when I say "you," I mean "me." And when I say "comes a point," I mean "right now."

This is the story of a pop trying to pimp out his daughter.

It was a few weeks after I had gone on a date with Blaire Allison, a 27-year-old who started a Web site last year to find a fiance by New Year's Eve.

Blaire didn't pick me as her husband-my soul wasn't heavy enough,she said-but she did advertise my availability on the "Not My Husband" page of her site.

This prompted e-mails from women wondering if, maybe, I could be their husband, instead.