I wasn't sure it was possible in our Jerry Springer world, but Lehr has taken the "fun" out of dysfunctional! Despite its racy subject (sex), this book is grindingly dull and unreadable. Even skimming it is torturous, given that Lehr has no writing talent and no command of the English language and grammar. (Enough with the hyphens, use of "his/hers," and swear words!) I've labored over who-cares memoirs (like Katy Lederer's Poker Face), but Lehr's book redefines the category.I'm left wondering: Which is more ludicrous--that Lehr thought anyone would be interested in reading about her pathetic, immature relationships or that a publisher paid her to write about it? It would all be laughable if Lehr didn't take herself and her situations so seriously. No such luck.