I'm about to break up with my girlfriend.

It has been two months. And, frankly, I knew from the beginning this wasn't going to last. After all, I only paid her for two months.

Yeah, that's right. I paid for a girlfriend. Not a real girlfriend, but an imaginary girlfriend. Not illegal prostitution, but legal intellectual prostitution.

My name is Matt. And I'm a HOTorNOT addict.

In recent weeks, I've been reduced to my most base, primal instincts. Forget personality. Sense of humor is irrelevant. All I care about is looks.

But it's not my fault. I blame it all on HOTorNOT.com. If you haven't heard of the site, stay away. Like a bottle of whiskey in the hands of a recovering alcoholic, HOTorNOT.com will pull you in and not let go.

The next thing you know, you'll be glassy eyed at your computer at 3 a.m. with drool dripping on your keyboard.

My prom date is divorced.

I was 21 when I heard she got engaged. Engaged! I was shocked -- this was my prom date. No one else my age was engaged.

I was 24 when she told me she got divorced. Divorced! I was shocked -- this was my prom date. No one else my age was divorced.

Every ethnic and religious group has one. I figured it was about time to try mine.

Some very perceptive Internet geeks have made a lot of money by breaking down dating Web sites according to race, religion and ethnicity. Catholics have CatholicSingles.com, Mormons have LDSmingle.com, Muslims have MuslimMatch.com and African-Americans have BlackPlanet.com.

Jews? We have Jdate.com.

Apparently, some of you didn't like The Experiment.

Last week, I wrote about an experiment my friend, Dan, and I conducted to meet as many women as possible in one night.

First, please understand that Dan and I did not want to do this. Why would we want to go out to a bunch of bars for a whole night and talk to beautiful women?

Obviously, we did it for the sake of science and not for ourselves.

How hard is it, really, to meet women?

I set out with my friend, Dan, to find out. This Experiment, as we called it, had nothing to do with the fact we wanted an excuse to meet as many women as possible in a night.

No. Not at all. This was about science.

With oil reserves depleting and war raging in the Middle East, gas prices are inching upward. It could be $2 a gallon for the cheap stuff by the summer.

So unless this solar power thing takes off -- and they've been talking about that for, like, 10 years already -- we're going to have to find alternative forms of transportation some time soon.

Dear Publishers,

Please stop sending me books about how to fall in love.

I know you think because I'm a dating columnist I would want to take out excerpts and write about how insightful your authors are.

Not a chance. You book publishers are like the scam artists who send out e-mails claiming to be Nigerian royalty and promising fast money. Both of you promise a quick fix and then steal -- in this case, from lonely singles.

During high school, I learned about girls from three places:

My Dad -- One weekend afternoon in 11th grade, on the day after I had hung out with a girl, Dad and I were at a department store. At one point, I reached up to grab a hat on a shelf, revealing the hickey on my neck.

At first, I didn't think my father saw the hickey, the leading indicator of teenage sexual behavior.

They call them metrosexuals.

They have habits traditionally perceived to be feminine and stereotypically perceived to be gay: They enjoy shopping for stylish clothes, spending lots of time doing their hair, moisturizing regularly and cooking quality cuisine.

They are British soccer star David Beckham and American hip-hop magnate P. Diddy.

And if you buy the hype, they are the newest version of the Great American Man.