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.
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.
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.
I wonder if anyone has ever read this, seen the wisdom of it and decided not to join. "I'm witty, charming, handsome and modest, and I'm kind to animals," I write, hoping this description will have a fairly broad appeal, and also include a recent photograph.
Your picture can be viewed only if you give a password to the person with whom you are conversing.
I'm already starting to feel like I've had enough of this experiment.
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.
I reply, telling her to come over and ask me face to face. She looks furtively around and asks me if I'm nervous. There is tension in the air like North and South Korea coming together to hammer out a treaty.
Suddenly the realisation of how odd it is to meet a stranger with the express intention of having an affair dawns on me. It's more like Alan Sugar interviewing an apprentice.
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.