I’m a man, mid-40s, married 18 years, with a daughter, age four.

My wife and I get along, but sex has ALWAYS been an issue, which is why it took so long before we were able to have a child.

My wife never initiates, won’t even kiss or hold hands. She’s cold to the bone.

It’s turned me into an angry beast. I snap at everything now, always in a miserable mood. I lust after other women but do nothing about it.

I’ve begged her to go to counselling. She refuses.

We had regular sex for the first few years together, and then it dropped off very quickly. We average once every four to six months. Since our daughter was born, we’ve had sex twice.

I’m having frequent, violent fantasies of hurting her (my wife) badly. I carry the guilt with me as if I’d done the crime.

I’m thinking of seeing a lawyer to issue papers to show her how far this has gone.

If she doesn’t push them aside during a one-year separation, then I’m afraid we have to go separate ways.

I feel nothing about losing her… she is so cold to the touch… but my daughter doesn’t deserve this.

I’ve also considered careers outside the province for most of the year to keep us apart, without divorcing.

It’d ensure that my daughter wouldn’t be taken away from me.

Where to Start?

Start with clearing your own head of dangerous and criminal thoughts. Get to a therapist’s office, immediately.

I’m taking your statement of violent fantasies seriously, and so should you.

Your sexual frustration and fears of “losing” your daughter, have made your thinking muddled and manic.

Here is what this innocent little girl truly does NOT deserve: An angry, bitter, snapping father. A silent war of resentment between both parents. Potential harm to her mother that could cause her to also lose her father to a jail term.

Nor, your scenario of an absent father living and working away, then swooping into her life periodically.

Get a grip. Start a process of therapy that also leads you to talk through your options.

Then, get to a lawyer and learn the realities of a potential separation/divorce along with joint custody of your daughter.

At 18, I made a racist comment in a moment of intense anger. I then instantly realized that my friend, "a minority person," was present.

I mumbled an apology. The incident was never mentioned again.

At 53, I’m still sickened by my 25-years-ago response, ashamed whenever I remember it.

I’ve never tolerated discrimination of any kind, yet I’d said those words.

I’ve run into that friend several times since high-school, she’s always kind.

I feel the need to apologize but I'm not sure she remembers the incident and I don't want to hurt her by raising it again.

No Clear Remedy

Many people carry throughout their lives some false stereotype or holdover of racist thought to which they’d been exposed.

But you learned early through this thoughtless remark, how bigotry can be completely wrong-headed and deeply hurtful not only to friends, but to your own sense of decency and integrity.

You’ve been feeling remorse for years and should finally get past it by going beyond your mumbled apology for the comment.

Contact your friend, with a heartfelt apology.

Include how grateful you are for having learned through that incident how soul-destroying racism is to its target, as well as to its perpetrator.

I’m in high-school, out as a lesbian for three years. My friends and family have been very supportive.

This year I’ve had a strong friendship with a guy. He walks me to my classes and we joke about being like an old married couple.

But people keep assuming that we’re dating. Even those I came out to, like my mother, are questioning me.

This guy often jokes about turning me straight. It’s starting to annoy me.

I know who I am and to whom I’m attracted.

My Sexuality

Tell this guy that your sexuality isn’t a joke, you need him to accept you as you are.

You can still be buddies while being clear to others that you two aren’t dating.

However, he may be trying to tell you that he has feelings for you. If so, it’s no joke to him either. You’ll need to have a talk that’s kind, but firm, about only being friends.