Lurking within the body of every adult male is, at minimum, a single strand of Mr. Hydian DNA with sex—and only sex—on its mind. It is an anachronistic strand, at stark odds with institutions like career, faith, and family. The strand predominates during teenage and college years and sends the average XY of our species into a vacant, open-mouthed trance whenever there is a hint of cheap, easy sex floating within arm’s reach. It revs up the body of the Common Housemale to the sounds of AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long,” and, fueled by racks of beers, orders him—against all sense and reason—to pursue goals exemplified by MTV Spring Break specials. The strand wields power. It topples politicians, ends careers, destroys families. It impedes the progress of society. And, regrettably, it makes males—no matter how deeply it is otherwise buried, suppressed, educated, enlightened, or exorcised—envy a guy like Phil Guye.

Phillip Guye is 23, a short, thin shnook from College Park who graduated from high school a virgin. The aberrant strand pays no mind to the likes of a man like Guye until it discovers that he currently lives, works, and sleeps with two cosmetically augmented strippers-cum-sex-kittens. His business life has a sexy patina as well: Guye’s company, Limo-Gram, provides limousines and strippers for hundreds of bachelor parties in the D.C. area each year, and his production company, Dr. Phil Good’s Productions, is churning out adult films and will soon start releasing same.

It is a life Guye never planned on leading, though it is one that almost any straight male who hears of it—no matter age, race, or marital or socioeconomic status—expresses jealousy over. This jealousy does not speak well for the male species, nor is it something women can fathom in the least. But it’s certainly part of the reason the adult entertainment industry is, according to U.S. News & World Report, an $8-billion-a-year industry.

Guye’s drive to succeed is on a vector surging far beyond nearby Maryland, far beyond the East Coast, even. For though he works in and around starched Beltway locales, Guye ultimately wants to be the biggest brand name in the smut industry, the Xerox or Kleenex of all products rimjob-related. But even if Guye may be living the dream (or at least the fantasy) of untold numbers of salivating sexually retarded men around the globe, to hear him tell it he remains a miserable—if prosperous—lone wolf. His world may be suffused with orgasms, but it has little to do with satisfaction.