Dear Mr. Blue,

I turn 40 this week. I've always wanted children and the man who's loved me for 10 years wants them too and wants us to get married and start the babies coming. He's a wonderful person and loves me beyond reason, but when I think about spending the rest of my life with him I become so depressed I could weep. My family loves him, his family loves me, we share the same values and interests and I just can't come up with any good reason not to marry him except that I'm sort of bored and nothing's happening between the sheets either. My question is: Given that I want children more than anything else in life, and given that I've hit 40 and my childbearing years will soon be over, and given that this perfectly nice man is foolish enough to love me, should I just go ahead and marry him and hope that my yearnings for something more fade away?

Indecisive in Chicago

Dear Chicago,

I'm sorry you're in this fix. Boredom is not a good place for a marriage to start. Evidently you found it comfortable to stick with this depressing schlump for 10 years, but you can't stick with him any longer if he depresses you. Take another look at your letter and if it really expresses how you feel, not just on a bad day but on all days, then tell him he's boring and you're done with him. See if it gets a rise out of him. And let yourself see other men. Modern medicine, meanwhile, is extending the childbearing years, so they may not be over as soon as you think. And, dear Indecisive, you really must start living your life and not wait for it to arrive. (OK, so I don't know exactly what that means either, but make something happen here, girl.)

Dear Mr. Blue,

I am 25 and always shunned romance, and then I went to breakfast with this wonderful, well-read, attractive man. From the first, I knew he was married. And I leapt anyway. We both did. He told me he was in love and wanted to grow old and cantankerous reading the paper with me. We tried cooling things off. That didn't work. We tried being friends. I couldn't handle the pain. Sensing he was not going to leave his wife -- as he said he would -- I packed his things in a box and told him not to call. Yes, I know I courted my broken heart. Yes, I know it was right to end it. But, Mr. Blue, do you have any advice that will help it hurt less?

Lonely Again in Pennsylvania

Dear Lonely,

A lot of people in your position wouldn't have acted so resolutely. They'd have packed and unpacked that box a couple dozen times, weaseled, waffled, but you -- you marched right out the door. And that shows that you're going to forge ahead and march through the pain to something better. Who knows what purpose this boyo was meant to serve, but take him as an experience, as a speed bump, as a commercial against adultery, as a summer replacement, as a breakfast that went on too long, as a catch-up course, whatever, and now you're ready for something good to happen. Something less tortuous. Wake up every morning and give thanks for the day, whether you feel grateful or not, and determine to do a couple of good things for yourself, whatever brings a smile to your face. It's such a clichi, but a true one: Let some time pass and you'll be amazed at how much better you'll feel than you feel right now.

Dear Mr. Blue,

Here's the deal. I am an aspiring writer. I am in love with the most sane and simple guy on the planet, a phys ed teacher, who doesn't understand why I write, what I write or what it means to me. I love him incredibly, but when I think of marrying him, I envision a life of hockey games, Super Bowl parties and chips and dip. My heart and brain are in heavy battle over this. Please help.

Stepford in South Jersey

Dear Stepford,

I'd tell you to say goodbye to the guy, except that you use the word "incredibly," and so one has to pause there. My guess is that your brain is going to tell your heart what to do, and your heart is going to accede. It's hard to make the brain shut up in matters of the heart, and when it speaks, it's usually persuasive. But plenty of writers have been married happily to people who weren't literary people. You don't marry a guy for his critical ability. You marry him because he's sexy, he makes you laugh and you believe in him. The hockey games are optional.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I'm a young writer recovering from many years of unhealthy introversion. I enjoy the art of conversation, but having so little practice, I'm not a very interesting chatterer. More like a mumbling washcloth. I want to transfer some of my written confidence and eloquence to my speech. Can you help?

Pen's Mightier Than Tongue

Dear Pen,

The art of conversation isn't so much eloquence as plain etiquette: You don't invite your friend to have lunch and then sit like a stone. You're not required to be wonderful, but you must make the attempt, and that counts for as much as anything else. Nobody ever masters this art. It depends on the occasion and your partners. Sometimes you get stuck in a black hole. But everyone has that social impulse in his heart, the kindness that wants to make a good time for other people, and conversation is an exercise of kindness. You can coast on the kindness of others, but if you don't pull an oar, you won't be asked out.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I own a restaurant and a home dealership, both challenging, but neither brings me the intellectual joy I get when I sit at my computer and write. I spend four hours at my novel several days a week, and my wife scoffs at me. She says, "You could be fixing the washing machine," or "The house needs painting." What would you do or say in my situation?

Perplexed

Dear Perplexed,

Writing, like staring out the window, is not a defensible way to spend time, so you must do it in private if you hope to evade questioning. Be somewhere else. Hide. It's better to apologize for not painting the house than to ask your wife's permission to write your novel.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I have loved a man who is the father of a 5-year-old girl whose mother he dated for three months and didn't marry. The mother has no interest in him, and he has none in her, except for wanting to know his daughter. And yet he holds onto the hope of reestablishing his relationship with the mother. For a year, he and I have been friends at times and more than friends at other times. We've been off and on, and continue to get back together to "just be friends," but sex always follows. I see wonderful things in him that I wish he could let triumph over his fear of commitment. But I realize that he will never be able to give me the kind of relationship I need, want and deserve. Should I try to just be friends? Or is he not worth my time?

Sadder but Wiser

Dear Sadder,

You can be just friends with him eventually, but maybe not until you start a relationship with someone else. And then, of course, maybe he won't be worth your time. But first, if you don't like the idea of casual sex, you should stop having it. And you stop having sex by simply not seeing him.

Dear Mr. Blue,

On vacation this summer, I got involved with a woman who lives on the opposite coast from me. We had such an incredible time, and found so much in common, that we became aware of the danger of edging out of "summer fling" territory. She returned to her life and I to the remains of mine (which was already in shambles), and we still can't stop thinking about each another. For my part, I know I'm on the rebound and dealing with some painful issues, so I can't tell how foolish I'm being by actually entertaining the possibility of being with this woman. She's begun therapy to try to figure out why she can't just settle back in and forget it. We would both have much to lose by dropping everything and switching coasts, but we're not sure what else to try. What should we do?

Pacific Rim

Dear Pacific, It sounds as if you're going to be spending some time on airliners. Shop around on the Net for those last-minute bargains. You know, $89 round-trip if you leave tomorrow morning. Take the romance slowly. If you think about each other all the time, write letters. Take it day by day and week by week. I doubt that a therapist is going to tell either of you why you can't forget the other, but in time, you won't need anyone to tell you. Maybe you're in love and you need to settle in the Midwest.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I've been dating a man who's going through a divorce -- they've been separated for a while -- and we decided to cool it while the divorce is proceeding. We had a great thing (common interests and temperament, strong physical attraction), but now I haven't heard from him in a few weeks. Should I give him the benefit of the doubt and see what happens or write him off as a schmuck? I just can't believe that a decent and responsible man would not tell me directly if he wanted to end it.

Hurt and Confused

Dear Hurt, Perhaps you two meant two different things by "cool it." Call him up and ask him what gives. He'll probably fall all over himself apologizing, but you can tell from his voice if he's really hoping to end this romance or if he's longing for you. Guys don't lie well. Don't be confused. Get to the point.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I am a way-too-old-to-be-a-sophomore journalism student who is having second thoughts. I love to write, but I find writing news painful. I think I might like to change my major to creative writing, but my advisor is hellbent on my becoming editor of the school newspaper, and he's been so encouraging and supportive that I feel obligated not to let him down. (Besides, it sounds like it would be fun.) So, should I stick to what I know I'm good at because it gets better and I'm just having a midlife crisis? Or should I get out and try something ELSE again?

Cob

Dear Cob, This sounds like a passing crisis to me, a brief fainting spell, not a reason to pull up stakes and move on. You can very well major in journalism and write news for the school paper and then find your way into more salubrious pursuits, writing fiction or telling lies in behalf of large corporations or whatever presents itself. An old rule of Mr. Blue's may apply here: Don't Get Off the Local in Hopes That the Express Is Coming Soon. You're in training; training is slow and involves some pain; stick with it.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I am a 28-year-old American woman who has started dating a 23-year-old Frenchman. Our first date was terrific. But on the night of our second, he called at the last minute to ask if we could get together later so he could say goodbye to his ex-girlfriend who was leaving town for a few months. A French woman I know says it's not unusual for the French to remain friendly with their exes. Am I heading for a heartache with this guy, or overly concerned about nothing?

Mademoiselle from Michigan

Dear Mademoiselle: At least he telephoned, he apparently told you the truth and he was on a mission of kindness. It's his own business how he treats his ex-girlfriends, but wouldn't you rather he were considerate and friendly toward them, rather than cold and dismissive? Regardless of how you feel, one date does not give you a license to be possessive. Set aside your bad feelings about the phone call. If you enjoy his company, see him again.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I graduated from journalism school in December and can't find a job. I have sent out some of my fiction to magazines and have been turned down for publication. I'm also in a social slump. How can I get rejected without feeling like a reject?

Passed Over in Phoenix

Dear Passed Over, One thing at a time. First, get a job. It may take some searching and maneuvering to find one you want, and you may need to leave Phoenix, but you will find one. Then work on your social life. Find friends, and eventually, through friends and friendship, you find love. Meanwhile, don't push the fiction too hard. It'll come when it's supposed to and not before. The search for love is a prime theme of fiction, and you're in a position to know about that.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I was once deeply in love with a woman, M., who left me for another. That was five years ago. Since then, my capacity to love feels restricted, and a portion of my heart is still occupied with her. I don't want to reunite with her. Honestly. What I want is my heart back, at full capacity. Any ideas?

Halfhearted in Hanover

Dear Halfhearted, Irving Berlin wrote a tune called "The Song Is Ended but the Melody Lingers On," and it sure does, on and on, and you think you've finally gotten beyond it and it comes back again. So you may as well cherish the memory, since it won't go away. But your capacity to love is extended, not restricted, by having loved her and gone through the pain of losing her. The experience makes you a more loving person than if you'd spent the time watching TV and eating cheese curls. This will be abundantly clear when you meet someone new. It will be a different love, but it will be deeper and kinder and more patient for what you learned from M.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I was an editor for college textbooks at a publishing company. I got a new boss who was a lunatic, and eventually, she fired me. That was a year ago. I'm a single mother of two. I've been working as a freelance copy editor and I'm hurting for money. Worst, I have lost my confidence to apply for jobs and "sell" myself in an interview. I feel like a failure. I enjoyed my previous job tremendously and it feels like such a loss. How do I start believing in myself again?

Lost

Dear Lost, You're simply not cut out for the freelance life, and maybe it's not cut out for you. You need a situation. I assume you have friends in the business: Now is the time to call on them for help. Don't mince words, don't be proud -- you need a job, so ask for one. You may also need to borrow some money to tide you over while you devote time to your job search: Is there a relative who can help? Draw on the people you know; let them know you need them. They believe in you. And they can help you out of this hole you've fallen in. As for "selling" yourself, it needn't be an aggressive pitch: You're a capable person, you have a track record and in the tempestuous publishing business, being fired once isn't so uncommon. Just look them in the eye and tell them you're a good editor.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I'm a young man in college, with plenty of friends, male and female. I like my studies, I have occasional flings -- all in all, I'm enjoying myself indecently. However, no girl has sparked a romantic interest in me in years. The fun ones are shallow, and the deep ones aren't fun. Considering the dozens of attractive, intelligent women I've consorted with, I find this inexplicable. Am I looking in the wrong places, or am I just missing what's right under my nose?

Boyfriend Without a Girlfriend

Dear B.W.G., You're enjoying yourself indecently and you need my advice? I fail to see what's wrong in this picture. Keep on enjoying yourself, I say. Eventually you'll fall in love with someone and she'll break your heart and then you can write to me and ask how to get over her. Meanwhile, dance on, sailor.

Dear Mr. Blue,

My teenage daughter has a friend, a young man of 16, a gifted musician and artist, whose mother left his family a couple of years ago and does not keep in touch and whose dad is not paying much attention and may be alcoholic. The boy is lagging badly in school and has bouts of depression.

My husband and I have tried to help him by including him on a family camping trip this summer, letting him hang around our house and stay for meals, listening to his music and appreciating his talent. I sat down with him and helped him make a plan to catch up on his school assignments.

Meanwhile, my daughter is concerned about him and some remarks he has made about suicide. I talked to her about the extent of her responsibility for this friend; I emphasized that depression can be treated and the most you can do for someone sometimes is encourage them to get help for themselves, and just hope they do it. This is complicated for her because he has a crush on her, and she only wants to be friends.

Now I am wondering how much more, if anything, I should do, or say. Any ideas?

St. Louis Mother

Dear Mother, You've done a great deal for the young man, and now you have the burden of additional knowledge -- the remarks about suicide -- and this gives you an additional responsibility. It seems to me that you probably have to bring this up with him directly and tell him that you're concerned about it and you want him to find help. And you may have to help him find it. This is surely more help than you expected to have to give, but there you are. It can be so damn hard to be a teenager. God, it can be hard. You and I can recall swampy periods in our own adolescences, but kids today have it harder, I believe. And they desperately need the kindness and understanding of caring adults in a world that seems to them as hospitable as Antarctica. This young man obviously has chosen your family for his life raft, and you may very well have acquired an additional son. The help should come from you, though, and not from your daughter: It's a bad idea to let help be mistaken for romance.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I published a couple of novels a few years ago, something I'd dreamed of all my life, and when it happened, I experienced deep joy, modest critical success and no financial rewards whatsoever. Then my family fell upon economic hard times, so I had to set aside fiction to do technical writing and some hack nonfiction to pay the bills. I don't write fiction anymore, except for a few pages now and then. I dream from time to time of a dying baby, whom I recognize as the novels I haven't written. Here's the question: When, someday, I can return to the work of my heart, will it still be there? Can the creative muscle that makes fiction survive if it's not exercised?

Hurting Ex-novelist

Dear Hurting, A few years have passed since you set fiction aside, so no harm is done, but don't let any more years pass before you return to the work of your heart. Economize. Simplify. Work part of the day to pay the bills and part on fiction. It's OK to do other writing to pay the grocery bill and the rent, but it's not OK to pay for a new sofa and draperies and Kobe beef and a 1988 Bordeaux and $125 shoes and an Armani suit. Draw the line between paying the bills and ushering yourselves into the Good Life. There's nothing you can buy that will satisfy you like that sickly baby can. And one day -- who knows? -- the baby will bring home a truckload of bacon.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I published my first children's book this year and it met with considerable success, which I greatly enjoyed -- readings, signings, etc. -- but I feel awkward when family and friends introduce me at parties with "She's an author," which forces me to talk about myself and my book when all I want to do is blend in. My husband gets angry with me for being too self-effacing. I appreciate the support, but I'm trying to move on and work on other projects. Any suggestions? Or is this a curse, albeit a pleasant one?

Flattered & Frustrated

Dear F&F, You are an author, an unusual occupation in your circle, hence the fuss. Smile, and change the subject. Don't make a big production out of being self-effacing. If you don't wish to talk about yourself and your book, that's fine: Other people are anxious to talk about themselves, so lead the conversation toward them and they will grab hold of it. This is easily accomplished.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I've just met "the one" but am strangely reluctant. I'm 28 and have felt that if a life-partner-type love came along, I would seize it, so this soul mate Irish poet comes along, just as I was making plans to go on a trip alone for several months. I am certain we will pursue each other's passions, yet I am still enamored with my independence. Or am I just emotionally immature?

Muddled in Manhattan

Dear Muddled, Go on the trip. Let him wait. If you go on the trip and give yourself a wonderful time and yet you can't wait to get home and see him, then that tells you something, and if, on the trip, you fall in love with an Algerian waiter in a bistro in Marseilles, then you've learned even more.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I'm 45, married for almost 10 years to a long-suffering, wonderful woman, with whom I have two beautiful little boys. After years of growing distance between her and me, I fell deeply in love with a woman who lives halfway across the country, with whom I experienced an immediate level of connection that went well beyond anything I had ever hoped for. Now, after a year and a half, she's ended the relationship because I could not bring myself in good conscience to move out on my children, whom I love. But life with my wife never seemed so empty as it does today. Is it OK even for schmucks to require affection in their lives, or does there come a point when our hopes for the world demand that we all play out a little Uncle Vanya?

Tired

Dear Tired, You can bridge this distance and fill this emptiness, but it can't be done in one big swoop, with a blast of trumpets, like falling in love with a mysterious woman in a strange city. It's accomplished on a daily basis, in dozens of small acts of thoughtful kindness and through conversation and through sexual intimacy. Start dancing and see if you don't hear the music. Go through the motions of love and you may find the feelings. Your wife is a familiar continent that has become foreign to you and you have to walk the terrain again and fall in love again but on a different basis. Try this for a year and a half, or two years for good measure. That immediate level of connection that you experienced was a beautiful illusion, common to love affairs. With your wife, you have a 10-year common history, which, while not so startling to you, is nonetheless a powerful connection. Surely you can afford to spend two years trying to rescue this far-from-hopeless situation.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I used to write very good poetry in college. Then I graduated, took a job, loved it, moved up quickly, got a high-powered job and a great boyfriend -- but I miss writing, and it doesn't come as naturally as it used to. How can I get back to the poet's way of thinking?

Too Corporate in Seattle

Dear T.C., You're probably much busier than you were in college, and the whir of the corporate engines, the pressures of having a guy around who's crazy about you, the jingle-jangle of the good life, tend to squeeze out the spiritual contemplative life that might lead to poetry. So set aside time. Not necessarily to write, but to be alone, to walk, to be without any pressure at all, to smell the frogs and listen to the roses. This is essential for your well-being anyway, whether it results in poetry or not.

Dear Mr. Blue,

I'm a 19-year-old college student who is trying to become a novelist. The problem is I'm still growing and my perceptions about life keep changing, so after I start a story, when I look at it a few weeks later I don't believe in it anymore. Will this change as I grow older, or am I doomed to flakiness?

Aggravated in Atlanta

Dear Aggravated, A story is a portrait of a moment in time, it's not a final statement: If it were, then nobody would write one until they were in their early 80s. And the story isn't about your perceptions of life but about your characters' perceptions. You need to believe in your characters in order to bring them to life. Probably your most believable character will be a 19-year-old person whose perceptions keep changing, but you the author are separate from that person. Keep your distance. Write that guy's story, not your own.

Dear Mr. Blue,

How did you become so wise?

A Reader in France

Dear Reader: Wisdom is gained by making mistakes. I don't know of another way. There's a lot of secondhand wisdom around, of course, and one should avail himself of it, since life is not long enough to make all the mistakes yourself, though I have come close.