In order to fit in with the general ethos of the website I have invented a wife.
Our relationship, I note, has suffered because we don't spend enough time together (not surprising really, since she doesn't exist).
So I paid £119 for a month's membership, giving me an entre to thousands of faithless females.
They are allowed to sign up for free as a way of ensuring the numbers are balanced between the sexes.
But in the modern world, in which the internet has become a vehicle for all manner of impropriety, she regards this kind of behaviour as perfectly acceptable.
We have encountered one another via an internet dating service established for the sole purpose of enabling married people to commit adultery.
I register, and enter the murky world of two-timing technology, taking note of the warning on the site: "Not all affairs have a positive effect on a marriage." What a masterpiece of understatement.
Later on I'm perplexed when she sends me two flirty text messages.
But if I'm going to find out what really makes these women tick, I need to leave the safety of the virtual world and see them for myself. I arrange to meet a 41-year-old mother of two who misses "romance and flirting", in a cafe in two days' time.
She has declined to tell me her name, so I have to think of her as her web sobriquet.
It may sound like an unpleasant niche website for a handful of amoral people to whom wedding vows never meant very much.
But it claims to have more than 100,000 members in the UK.
Your picture can be viewed only if you give a password to the person with whom you are conversing.