In the town where I went to college, all the mens' dormitories were in a row on the West side of campus. Right across the highway, there was a trailer park. Both were old and shabby, so it would be difficult to work out the chicken-and-egg of the situation, but the net effect was the same: high-school drop-out Waffle House waitresses were placed in a prime location to fetch soon-to-be college drop-out insurance salesman.

... without even having to drop bus fare.

After the sun dropped, in the twilight hours before third shift started, they'd crawl across the highway like so many earthworms after a heavy rain, climb up the fire escapes, and knock on random windows. Some of the fellows caught bird-dog wives, many more caught the most unappetizing infections, and yet others caught raging hell from girlfriends who mistook this for a regular occurrence. Granted, it was, but it's not the kind of thing you admit to the cleaner class of woman.

At least not until she asks about the lice.

Though it was a detriment to society to lose so many promising young men - if a fellow who couldn't negotiate an abortion could have much success in any white-collar endeavour - it was a benefit to the species. Left to their own devices, women of that class tend to end up marrying their brothers, their cousins, or their fathers.

In most cases, that's one person.