I was done. Done with men. Women say it all the time; they get fed up, throw their hands in the air, and vow a life of celibacy-until the next chiseled chest comes into view and then they're foaming at the mouth and wiping the drool from their chins. But this was different, I really meant it. I'd been manhandled by the last pig that would ever bring his sausage near me. After one of the nastiest divorces in history, followed by...