Boys in the Trees

by Carly Simon

If I were to locate and then identify all the hellish things we all have to go through in life in order to uncover one minute of happiness, it would take up a lot of space.

I didn’t know of any rock ’n’ roll guys who didn’t cheat on their wives or girlfriends. They’d have sex with someone and the next day have no recollection of who that person was. Did that count as infidelity? Then there were any number of “behind the stalls in dressing rooms” moments. What about those—did they count? The rules, it seemed, were foggy, bendable, forever in play.