I’d like to have sex three or four times a week, but my girlfriend of a year is willing only once a week. She isn’t on antidepressants or other medication. I’m guessing her sex drive is just low since she says she’s very happy with me, and just isn’t usually in the mood. I find begging unappealing, and don’t want to pressure her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. I know relationships require compromise. What would be a reasonable one regarding frequency of sex?

Relationships are filled with little tasks that don’t exactly bring a person to screaming orgasm. A man, for example, doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night with some primal longing to bring his girlfriend flowers, rehang her back door, or clean the trap in her sink. Like sex, these things can be expressions of love, but if a guy’s going to lock himself in the bathroom, it’s not going to be with “Bob Vila's Complete Guide to Remodeling Your Home.”

So, couldn’t putting out when you aren’t in the mood be seen as just another expression of love? Joan Sewell, author of I'd Rather Eat Chocolate: Learning to Love My Low Libido, told The Atlantic Monthly, “If you have sex when you don’t desire it, physically desire it, you are going to feel used.” Well, okay, perhaps. But, if a guy rotates a woman’s tires when he doesn’t desire it, physically desire it, does he feel used?

Actually, we all do plenty of things with our bodies that we don’t really feel like; for instance, taking our bodies to work when we have a hangover instead of putting our bodies in front of some greasy hash browns, and then to bed. For women, however, sexual things are supposed to be out of the question. I think the subtext here is not doing things we really don’t feel like if it GIVES A MAN PLEASURE. And no, I’m not advocating rape or anything remotely close to it. And, of course, if you find sex with your husband or boyfriend a horrible chore, you’re in the wrong place. Otherwise, if you’re with a man, and he’s nice to you, and works hard to please you, would it kill you to throw him a quickie?

The real problem for many couples is the notion that “the mood” is something they’re supposed to wait around for like Halley’s Comet -- probably due to the assumption that desire works the same in men and women. The truth is, just because a woman isn’t in the mood doesn’t mean she can’t get in the mood. According to breakthrough work by sexual medicine specialist Rosemary Basson, women in long-term relationships tend not to have the same “spontaneous sexual neediness” men do, but they can be arousable, or “triggerable.” In other words, forget trying to have sex. Tell your girlfriend about Basson’s findings, and ask her to try an experiment: making out three times a week (without sex being the presumed outcome) and seeing if “the mood” happens to strike her. You just might find the member getting admitted to the club a little more often.

Sexperts will tell you “a sexual mismatch needn’t mean the end of a relationship” -- which sounds good but tends to play out like being hungry for three meals a day and being expected to make do with a handful of pretzels. Expressway to Resentsville, anyone? If it comes to that, breakup sex is a better idea. You’re always going to have issues in a relationship, but for a relationship to work for you, the biggie’ll have to be something like your falling asleep after sex, not her falling asleep before.

I have a guy friend, “Bobby,” whose wife has blurted out twice (once at my wedding reception) that Bobby and I dated in college. We actually had a one-night stand -- over 10 years ago. Word got around to my husband, who asked me if Bobby and I had indeed dated. I said no, since technically we hadn’t. I finally asked Bobby’s wife to stop talking about it, and she sort of apologized, and hasn’t spoken of it since. Still, I’m really nervous when we run into her at social functions, because knowing about Bobby would upset my husband. I can see him getting all jealous, like, “We’ve been hanging out with this guy, and now I find out that you slept with him.” He’d at least be hurt that something was kept from him (even though he specifically stated that he never wanted to be told this stuff). Worse, he might want to have the “numbers” conversation, and let’s just say I’ve lost track, and he believes sex equals love, and the only other person he ever slept with was his ex.

Your husband knows you were a hussy. That’s why he made it clear he never wanted to be told what you did, and with whom. And a good thing that is, since it sounds like the details of “with whom” may sometimes be limited to “#59. Ian’s friend from SF,” “#61. Jeff McSomething-Or-Other,” and “#63. Guy from plane.”

If your husband’s going to maintain his preferred picture of you as his little Snow White, you’re going to have to help him stay in the dark about Bobby and the rest of the 107 dwarves. The problem is, curiosity can make even the most sensible people stupid. If your husband catches wind of the Bobby story again, even though he knows he’s better off not knowing, he’ll probably squeeze you for answers. Even if you tell him “It was nothing,” and “It happened once, more than 10 years ago,“ and he understands that intellectually, his male brain is likely to turn it into a sexual horror film on an extremely unlimited run: “Bobby! Bigger! Better!” Of course, in your husband’s mind movie, Bobby is not just “well-endowed,” he had to be lowered onto your bed with a special crane. And reminders of Bobby will be everywhere. Your husband will be watching the news when they show some enormous missile being launched. He’ll squint his eyes a little, and suddenly, it’s anatomically correct, and what’s that printed on the side? “Bobby, Class of ‘96”?

Disclosures about one’s sexual history should be made according to a modified version of the old “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” -- with the caveat, “unless what happened in Vegas can cause big purple boils to form on your partner’s upper lip.” This does run counter to the “tell-all” model of marriage -- the mistaken notion that your spouse has the right to know everything about you, and the equally mistaken notion that it’s a good idea. Am I telling you to lie? Like a big shaggy rug. If your husband asks you about Bobby: “It never happened.” If he presses you: “It’s a rumor, and it’s wrong.” Be prepared to be just as firm in refusing to let him deconstruct the rest of your sexual past. Should you feel guilty about lying, remember, in the short run, coming clean is easier, feels better, and requires much less upkeep. In the long run, “happily ever after” works best when it isn’t hyper-focused on naked, drunk, and grope-ily ever before.

I’m a 49-year-old guy, and when I met my girlfriend of six months she told me she was 30. Our 19-year age difference worried me, but she said it was cool with her. A few weeks ago, I inadvertently discovered she's really 39. She admitted it, apologized, and said she didn't know why she didn’t tell me. I’m glad she's 39, but should I be worried about this kind of dishonesty spilling over into other areas?

“Beauty is truth,” wrote Keats. Clearly, Keats never experienced underwire, implants, or those little silicone patties women stick in their bras. (There’s a reason they don’t call them “truthsies.”)

The truth is, beauty is rarely truth, and typically the product of a massive disinformation campaign. If you think about it, even deodorant is a lie -- and may be a “gateway drug” to lipo, Botox, and lips by Goodyear. For liars on more of a budget, there are those pantyhose that squeeze a size 16 woman into a size six woman -- until she passes out and has to be removed from her nylons by paramedics wielding the “Jaws of Life.”

Men, too, lie about their looks -- with Rogaine, hair plugs, socks in the crotch, and the untucked shirt hiding the really big gut. And then, because women are into fiscal good looks, a man’s more likely to introduce himself as “a consultant” instead of “unemployed,” or to live in a treehouse he’s sublet from some kid so he can make the payments on his Jag.

Accordingly, a girl who turns the clock back nine years is lying, but there are lie-lies and there are like-me lies, and they shouldn’t be assigned the same point value. Back when you were, say, just some cute stranger in a bar, her age-shaving was a like-me lie. But, then you started dating. There was a grace period (two dates, three dates) in which she could’ve played the silly girl card, and said, “Tee hee, I have a confession to make. I liked you so much I told this stupid lie!” Instead, she stuck to her deception -- even though she knew that the truth would’ve made you feel much better. The coverup turned it into a lie-lie -- a sign of questionable character -- and probably led to some fast talking about how old she was when she got her first mullet.

Will her dishonesty spill into other areas? It’s possible. Let’s look at the area you’re probably most worried about -- some other guy’s bedroom. Researchers Todd Shackelford and David Buss gave a battery of tests to 107 married couples, and found three personality traits common to those more susceptible to infidelity. The first is narcissism -- being self-absorbed, self-important, lacking in empathy, and prone to exploiting others. Next on the list are low conscientiousness and high “psychoticism,” clinical terms for a personality marked by impulsivity, unreliability, and an inability to delay gratification.

Even if some or all of this sounds disturbingly familiar, it doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll stray. Don’t bother asking her whether you can trust her (what’s she going to say, “Probably not”?). Just act like you can so you can observe her in unguarded moments and learn the truth without her knowing she’s telling it. In time, you should get a sense of whether she’s just insecure, and insecure about admitting to it -- or inclined to take those “little shortcuts of life” more accurately known as lying, cheating, and relocating to the Caribbean with the contents of your bank account.

Because I value trusting one’s instincts, I’m prompted to write about your advice to “Uneasy,” the woman whose boyfriend would go into another room to talk on the phone to his stepdaughters from a previous relationship. I feel the woman was expressing suspicion that he still had some interest in their mom out of an unwillingness to believe that he may be behaving inappropriately toward his stepdaughters. One in four women reports having been raped or molested in childhood, and stepfathers play a prominent role in those statistics. He may not be a “molester,” but maybe he’s asking the girls about their bodies in ways that make them uncomfortable. You should have encouraged “Uneasy” to call a truce with her boyfriend: He takes calls openly, and she drops the nagging if there isn’t anything unseemly going on.

Oh, the dark world of people who prefer to take their phone calls in private. Yes, this guy could be a molester, and could be asking these girls inappropriate questions about their bodies. And when I walk away from my boyfriend to take a call, I could be planning the violent overthrow of our government, and arranging to trade my neighbors’ twins for a suitcase nuke -- or maybe I simply see no need for corroborating witnesses when I try to reschedule my cleaning lady.

The woman in question admitted that she had no reason to believe her boyfriend had any interest in an ex-wife he’d divorced over five years earlier, or was anything but a stand-up guy trying to remain a father figure to his very young stepdaughters. Yet, according to you, merely because he preferred to talk to the girls without his jealous girlfriend standing over him, I should have encouraged her to say something along the lines of “Hey, honey, I’ll calm down if only you let me listen to your calls so I can be sure you aren’t raping babies.”

Warped thinking like yours makes me realize how lucky I am to be a woman and white as typing paper. Although I recently got stopped by a cop for going the wrong way on a one-way street (he rolled his eyes and let me go when he realized I wasn’t drunk, just ditzy), I’m generally safe from automatic presumptions of criminality like Driving While Black or Living And Breathing While Male.

Here you are, parroting this outrageous man-bashing propaganda -- “one in four women reports having been raped or molested during childhood” -- maybe because you heard it repeated so often you assumed it was fact. This figure is a common misquote of a survey by radical feminist sociology professor Diana Russell. Although Russell presents herself as a truth-seeking social scientist, her work reflects a substantial bias against men, as evidenced by her claim, based on one of her studies, that “a considerable amount of marital sex is probably closer to the rape end of the continuum.”

The actual figure from Russell’s survey was an unbelievable one in 2.6 women sexually abused before the age of 18 -- a figure she arrived at with substandard sampling techniques and what UC Berkeley professor Neil Gilbert, in his book Welfare Justice, calls “research that lumps together relatively harmless behavior such as attempted petting with the traumatic experience of child rape.” For example, one of Russell’s questions asked, “Did anyone ever try or succeed in touching your breasts or genitals against your wishes before you turned 14?” Well, if you put it that way, even I was a victim of child sexual abuse: It was sixth grade, we were playing spin the bottle in somebody’s basement, and the boy who kissed me tried to feel me up.

Should we really count a quick boob grab I got from some sixth-grader the same as the experience of some other 12-year-old girl who was repeatedly forced to have sex with her uncle? We should if we’re looking to criminalize being male -- and never mind if that poisons relations between women and men, dilutes funding and attention to real victims, and leads to prejudicial policies like British Airways’ that no unaccompanied minor can sit next to a man. (Which -- horrors! -- means some unaccompanied brat is more likely to be seated next to me!)

Women best protect themselves by appraising men as individuals, based on evidence, not by leaping to the assumption that “stepdad” equals sex predator. In other words, my advice to “Uneasy” stands. My advice to you? Pick up Christina Hoff Sommers’ Who Stole Feminism? to get a better idea of the damage done by radical feminist activism tarted up as serious science. Contrary to what the likes of Diana Russell would have you believe, you should come to the conclusion that the answer to “Hey, Dad, how’d you meet Mom?” probably isn’t “While raping her at knifepoint.”

I am 22, and my boyfriend of 15 months is 41. He has an extremely difficult time expressing any affection or emotion, and our physical intimacy has been dwindling despite my efforts to seduce him. His family says I’m the first girl he’s brought home since 1987, and his longest relationship. They’re rooting for me, and say I should call them if he starts pushing me away. They want him to have a family, and he says he wants one, too, but has never come close. I realize I’m young, but for the first time, I feel selfless. I would happily sacrifice my happiness for his. It’s so important to me that he is able to become a father, even if it is not with me. But, maybe our age difference means we were supposed to meet so I can bear his children. I strongly believe this man is my soul mate, even if he is not so sure. How do I keep from going crazy while not pressuring him so much that I lose him?

Just what every kid needs, a father who’s incapable of expressing any affection or emotion. Should work wonders when your little girl wakes up screaming for her daddy to protect her from the monsters. Oops, Daddy doesn’t do hugs. Could she work with a pat on the back, or maybe a nice firm handshake?

As for you, proud holder of the title, “First Girl He’s Brought Home Since 1987,” I’m guessing the others didn’t find emotional constipation such a strong selling point. Apparently, it works for you. (Pops was a cold chap?) Clearly, you don’t want a man who’s affectionate. If you did, you’d be with one. It seems what you really want is a challenge: Go where no woman has gone before! Only you can unlock the love within! (Yeah? Wanna bet?) When a guy shows you he’s incapable of affection, the appropriate response isn’t to latch onto him like a tick and go celebrate with his family.

Chances are, your parents sent you through school so you could make something of yourself, not make something of a broken, middle-aged man. At 22, you’re faced with all these big questions: Who are you, where are you going, what are you doing? The answer shouldn’t be making some guy your project in hopes of avoiding the looming uncertainties of you. Once you actually do the work to develop a self, you might be a little pickier about where you sacrifice it: maybe for world peace, or for those little babies with the distended bellies -- not for a guy who won’t caress your neck unless you call his mother and get her to talk him into it.

Putting aside how silly it is to believe that everybody has one designated “soul mate” (some women say that about each of their six husbands), you can’t actually believe yours is a guy whose emotional availability rivals that of a cinderblock. Instead of clinging to this picture of the life you could have if only he were completely different, why not ditch him and work toward the life you could have if you were completely different? Like, if you had a strong self, felt you deserved to be happy, and to have love in your life. It beats setting yourself on a path to wake up at 30, bitter and resentful, realizing you aren’t the only couple in need of marital aids -- just probably the only one turning to gallon jugs of de-icer and a portable defibrillator.