Well, you know what this is all about from the title. I’m sorry, I hope this isn’t unseemly to you folks, but I feel like writing about Tiger.

Not about him, necessarily, but about men and women. A large theme I’m working on now that I haven’t finished and polished yet fully is about adultery. How powerful is that pull for men to be unfaithful?

Very. I haven’t done it, but I think we all think about it pretty much constantly. I have a line in my act about the difference in the gravitational pull of this for men and women, that “It’s not even close. It’s like the difference between shooting a bullet and throwing it.”

Whenever a guy like, well, like Tiger, does something like this, a public figure, a star, it’s always so weird, but instructive, to analyze after the fact. When you hear about some hostess in this or that place, you can almost see the moment replaying in slow motion, of a man — ANY MAN — having someone smile at him.

First of all, no one, not me, not you, very few, can ever imagine what it’s like for a gigantic star, a young, handsome man, a zillionaire, an athlete, the very top of his heap, to walk into that bar or dance club and know that every single female eye is thinking, “WOW, am I glad I came here tonight. If I can just get next to him, I can take a shot, and if I take a shot, I just might connect, and if I connect, Whoa, Nelly, I’ve got it all made.”

Perhaps phrases like “Whoa, Nelly” aren’t part of the equation, but you know what I mean.

You know what? I don’t know about you, but I don’t blame them for thinking that. Two hundred years ago the big aristocrats and nobles used to use single women horribly, ruin their names, very often leave them with children who would never have a father (just ask Alexander Dumas, who only wrote the greatest couple of books in the world).

And then? When they’d had their fill? Just stroll away whistling, and the woman was left with only shame and emptiness — and a very difficult time from the neighbors.

So it’s not hard to see, these days, that many women say to themselves, “If I can close this deal, I’ll have a few laughs, I’ll live high on the hog, I’ll give this guy what he wants, and then, when he’s ready to move on, I’ll put a very large check on his table — And why shouldn’t I? Hell, ten million bucks wouldn’t even make that guy blink anyway.”

I think the thought process isn’t far from that and, as I said, I don’t even blame them. You almost want to say, “Yeah. Why shouldn’t she?”

How strong is that pull… Maybe it’s similar for women, but it’s so much a part of male nature to want… well, everyone. If we don’t like it, we’ll just have to complain to the manufacturer. And it’s not even about the actual sex, in a way, there is something timeless about the whole world of women for men. A guy could be a hundred and three, and impotent, and still say, “Ooh, look, a cheerleader! Whoa, Nelly!” (I just felt like using “Whoa, Nelly” again. It’s not the kind of thing that comes up a lot, but now that it’s on the table, I just wanted to toss it in again.)

Any man can cheat, any time he wants. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought, “What’s the big deal? If I were French, they do it all the time.” But I don’t. I might, but I don’t, but I haven’t, but it’s always there. Hmmph. Complain to the manufacturer.

There’s a true story from my book that I’ll mention now, from a friend of mine named Mike, who got married at 29, which is young for show business. I didn’t get married till 39, which — oddly enough — is not late for show business.

So Mike was married a few years (which sounded like forever to me at the time), and we were at the Improv having a beer, and I was the same age as him; and I was astonished he got married in the first place, and I said, “So, have you ever, you know, fooled around?” And he said, “No.”

And I said, “Are you afraid she’ll find out, or is it religious, or money. Or afraid of catching anything? Or… why?”

And he shook his head and smiled, and I said, “Okay, why?”

And he looked at me for a second and said, “I promised I wouldn’t.”

That’s still the best answer I’ve ever heard. It moved me then, and it moves me today, and I’ve never forgotten it.

Let me be clear: I’m not above the fray on any of this. I think about it, I think about it a lot, sometimes I practically dwell on it, but I haven’t done it. But I might, right? Who ever knows for sure what he will or will not do? But I hope I don’t, for a lot of reasons I know now that I didn’t know then.

And every so often I think of Mike’s answer, which still can’t be beaten: “I promised I wouldn’t.”

I hope the Woods family repairs itself, if that’s what they want — and I think that’s what they should want. I hope his wife can understand a tiny bit of what he was thinking, and maybe that he can understand a tiny bit of what she’s feeling. This world has lots of bad people in it, and I don’t think he’s one of them by a long shot.

Of course, I guess he’ll have to expect a certain amount of kidding the next time he gets a hole-in-one. I’ll bet at least one guy in the gallery will shout, “Whoa, Nelly!”

Had to get it in one more time.

REMEMBER: IF YOU WALKED OUT OF BED TODAY, AND A WOMAN WAS IN THERE WHO WAS NOT YOUR WIFE… TRY NOT TO DO IT AGAIN, GO HOME, LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND SAY, “WHOA, NELLY.” (OR A SIMILAR PHRASE OF YOUR OWN CHOICE.)