I lived in Las Vegas (North Las Vegas, actually) when I was between 13 and 15. There were lots of beautiful women around, none who seemed to be on the sorts of career tracks that I would wish for me or mine. 'Nuf said.
Slighly longer explanation for those who were not denziens of sin city during the years in question--Vegas had, inexplicably, large numbers of showgirls, all beautiful, and prostitutes, some also beautiful, including the mother of my dear friend Bambi, who, besides being built like a taller, leggier, more naturally blonde version of Dolly Parton, would tell me stories about having to ride ostriches, and how frightening she found it. I didn't ask questions. I still feel great guilt about not being able to do anything for her.