My boyfriend of eight months is a vegetarian, and believes all animals are created equal, and that we, as animals, don't have a right to eat other animals. I'm very much a carnivore, and feel my body needs the protein, although I agree with him that eating meat is morally wrong. When we first met, he said he didn't care if I ate meat. Now, when we eat out, and I mention that my food smells wonderful, he launches into a tirade about how I've made an animal suffer a horrendous death because of my eating habits. Consequently, I've stopped ordering meat when we're together, and I've also stopped enjoying going out to dinner. Still, he's a gentle, thoughtful man, so maybe dietary sacrifices are worth it. It's amazing that eating habits can be such a problem.

Like a conch shell, which supposedly sounds like the ocean, maybe if you listen closely to your burger you can hear echoes of the cow screaming when it was slaughtered. Thoughts like that must go through your head when you're speeding away from your boyfriend's house, reminding yourself that you, too, think it's morally wrong to eat meat. And then...lemme guess...you make a hard right, pull up to an intercom, roll down your window, and mutter, "Bacon double cheeseburger, please."

According to your boyfriend, people and cows are born equal. Then what happens? Notice how cows have yet to build an International Space Station, or even open one of those little key-making huts outside the mall. But, does this mean we have a right to eat them? I think so -- providing we give them a nice patch of grass, and kill them humanely. Still, your boyfriend's entitled to his beliefs, and you're entitled to yours...if you can remember where you stashed them.

It may help you to understand that there are good reasons to eat meat. "Meat is the single best source of virtually every vitamin but vitamin C," said Gary Taubes, an investigative science journalist whose myth-busting book, Good Calories, Bad Calories, (Sept. 07) is sure to revolutionize the American diet, proving that meat is not the health demon it's made out to be. Taubes pointed me toward nutritional anthropologist Marvin Harris' book Good To Eat, in which Harris explains that the ratios of essential amino acids in plant foods (except soy) are not optimal for humans. (The scientific jury's still out on whether scarfing large quantities of soy is healthy or safe.) People have to eat huge quantities of nuts or legumes to match the nutritional value of meat "since the least abundant essential amino acids in plants are precisely the ones most needed by the human body."

If only your boyfriend could have his Tofurky without cramming it down your throat, too. Sorry, it isn't "eating habits" that are the problem, but his habit of berating you about yours; probably to the point where you can't even eye a happy-hour cocktail wiener without fearing he'll burst into tears and scream, "Murderer!" (Are we having fun yet?) If Meatless Joe can't deal with your dietary choices, he should break up with you, not try to guilt you into breaking up with glazed pork chops. But, the real responsibility is yours -- to stand up for who you are, and find a man who's okay with it, even if the particulars aren't okay for him. Come on, admit it: Wouldn't you be happier as somebody's free-range girlfriend -- free to prefer the actual steak to the feeling of moral superiority you're supposed to get from not eating it?

After my wife’s jewelry business slowed down she started bartending to pay her part of our bills. She’s 35. A guy about 60 got friendly with her, leaving $50 tips for a few beers. This raised an eyebrow for me. Then she got breast implants and a tummy tuck and still had money...hmmm. After digging through her tall tales, I finally got her to admit Mr. Friendly funded everything. She just started nursing school, and now he gives her over $2,000 a month. She insists he’s just a friend, and the father figure she never had, and he just wants to help. They meet regularly for coffee, and I’ve even heard her on the phone telling him “I love you” (platonically, she insists). We have a 4-year-old son together, and I love her and don’t want to leave. Still, she won’t stop seeing him because he pays her bills, and I can’t pick up all the debt she’s incurred. Money aside, she doesn’t want to be without her “friend.” Any ideas? My head’s about to burst.

There is a bright side to this. Unlike rich guys who fund hospital wings, at least he didn’t have his name plastered across his donation: “Support for these breasts comes from the Dirty Old Man Foundation.”

Your wife keeps trying to pass this thing off as something sweet and innocent: He “just wants to help!” Well, in that case, why isn’t he out buying a homeless guy a sandwich instead of putting $10K into a tummy tuck and new set of biscuits for another man’s wife? He’s “just a friend!” Really? Friends ask you how your mom’s doing with her injured foot, not how they can make you more boobalicious. And, finally, he’s “the father figure (she) never had.” I liked that one best. I don’t know about other girls, but my father talked to me about right and wrong, and how I could do anything boys can do -- not the merits of silicone over saline, or how I, too, can have porn-star breasts.

A female bartender is basically an affordable stripper. For some guys, she’s the one woman who will not only speak to them but listen like she’s actually interested. A lot of guys mistake this paid interest for genuine interest, and it’s up to the bartender to close out a guy’s tab and his fantasy at the end of the evening and go home to her family. And then there’s your wife, who sees no reason why having a husband and child should stop her from having a “Who’s yer daddy?!”

Ironically, the one most in need of a male role model is you, since it appears yours was either Jan Brady or Bambi. Another man buys your wife a hotter body, and she continues to let him neuter you with his money, and in response you…furrow your brow? Wow, that’s harsh. At over $25,000 a year, this isn’t a friendship, it’s an investment. And now or down the road, the guy’s got to be looking for some sort of payoff. Beyond learning how much more respect you get when you don’t act like a chump, you owe it to your kid to try to have a healthy marriage. For that, you’ll need a referee -- a couples counselor who won’t accept justifications from your wife that, for general believability, rival “Sorry I’m late, the aliens shorted out their probe again.” Ultimately, if your wife’s going to keep acting like she pledged “’til death do us part (or ‘til I get a higher bid),” she may as well put herself on eBay to see if she can pull in the really big bucks.

I am 36, with one son, and I had been dating a wonderful man for a year. We were planning on moving in together and discussing marriage...until one day I said to him, out of anger, “No wonder your wife divorced you and your daughter doesn’t speak to you!” That was two months ago. I have sent a steady stream of cards and flowers expressing how sorry I am for what I said, but he says we’re done. I started counseling because he told me I have an anger management problem and he can’t live with someone like me. I just can’t live with myself knowing I lost the man of my dreams. I’m queasy and I’ve dropped 17 pounds in two months. Is a man really worth this?

There are times in a man’s life when he comes to understand what “I love you” really means; in this case, “I’d like to tear out your liver with my bare hands, cut it up into hors d’oeuvre-sized pieces, and feed it back to you on Ritz crackers.”

Okay, sure, you apologized -- which is the equivalent of saying, “I mean, ‘I’d like to tear out your liver, etcetera, etcetera…Snookums.’” The guy trusted you enough to show you all the little broken pieces in him, and you rewarded him by gathering them up, wrapping them around a bat, and playing piñata with his ego. Surprise, surprise, that didn’t go over too well. And it seems the cards and flowers aren’t doing the job to clear up how you really feel. Or…maybe they actually are: “So sorry I showed you my true self. Won’t happen again!”

People who care about each other do have disagreements -- just not to the point where somebody has to come by and clean up what’s left of one or both of them with a dustpan, a damp rag, and a squeegee. When you love somebody, you don’t forget it. Even in the heat of the moment. Even when you know, down to your DNA, that you’re right and they’re wrong. That’s because love, in the words of sci-fi writer Robert Heinlein, is “the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.” And no, the epilogue to that isn’t “except when I’m not getting my way, in which case I can revert to all the handy lessons I learned at the Joseph Stalin school of seduction.”

“Is a man really worth this?” you ask -- suddenly mindful of how inconvenient it can be when your party manners plummet like the shoulder strap of Tara Reid’s dress, and your boyfriend decides eliminating toxic anger from his life is more prudent than trying to manage it. Let’s just say your ability for self-non-examination is profound. This isn’t about him or getting him back -- although that might be a fringe benefit of exploring how feeling powerless leads to power plays, and how being too insecure to calmly assert yourself can turn you into the kind of person who eventually goes after a mosquito with a shoulder-fired missile. Try to see this as an opportunity. Cut the card and flower shower, forget trying to maintain the appearance of love, and focus on getting yourself to the place where you consistently show the real deal. At that point, getting caught up in the “heat of the moment” should have you ransacking the nightstand for a tube of Astroglide instead of running out to the garage for a 55-gallon drum of napalm.

I’m college educated, with a professional job that pays well. My boyfriend of two years does manual labor, makes much less money, and has poor financial prospects. He’s a simple guy, and we may not have many deep conversations, but he’s loyal, good to me in many ways, and we’re sexually compatible. He’s 43, and I’m seven years older, but I look pretty good. He’s very tall, in very good shape, and very good-looking. The problem: Whenever some of my girlfriends come to the house, they’re so distracted by his looks that they stare at him a little obsessively. This is the one significant issue interrupting our relationship. How can I stop worrying about this and find peace of mind?

Which of the following doesn’t belong? 1. I have a rare fatal form of B.O. 2. I’m in the middle of a bear breeding ground wearing a necklace of beef jerky. 3. My boyfriend is tall, buff, and incredibly hot.

Sorry if I sound unsympathetic, but as problems go, “My boyfriend’s too good-looking!” is right up there with “I make too much money!” and “I own too many villas on the Italian Riviera!” It is conceivable that your girlfriends find your working man Adonis glance-worthy, but are you really running around dabbing their chins for drool? Come on, what goes on at your house, you invite the ladies over for drinks, while directly in front of your bay window your boyfriend slowly peels off his tank top, picks up his massive ax, and starts chopping wood?

Granted, girls do look longer at good-looking people. As do boys. Even the very youngest boys and girls. University of Exeter researcher Dr. Alan Slater showed newborn babies pictures of faces, and found that they gazed longest at the faces adults rated as more attractive. In the long run, though, grownup women are looking for more than eye-candy, which is why the girl supermodel might lie down with the boy supermodel, but she’s likely to partner up with some obscenely wealthy Hobbit. Even regular girls duke it out for a man with status and potential -- if not a tycoon, at least a driven guy who seems to be making something of himself. While your boyfriend may round out his hotitude with a golden heart and many fabulous qualities, in the Big Man On Campus department, he’s currently the pool boy.

If this doesn’t quell your fears about his poachability, maybe you’d be more comfortable with an ugly boyfriend. Or blind friends. Or, if that’s a bit much to swing, try getting more comfortable with yourself. Start by asking yourself, what’s the worst thing that could possibly happen? He’ll leave you? Okay, maybe that he’ll leave you for a stripper named José. Still, you’ll live -- even if the latter takes you a while to live down. At the moment, the wisest thing you could do is put a handbrake on that low-self esteem. From the picture you paint, there’s a good chance you have little to worry about; well, except that your worrying is sending him the message that he’s dating down. Nothing lowers a girl’s value quite like her own low opinion of herself. All you can do is recognize that you have a lot to offer, and hope he recognizes it, too. So, why not live for today instead of living in fear that he’ll be gone tomorrow? That way, you’ll be handcuffing him to the bed for the right reasons -- meaning you don’t follow up the click of the lock by leaving the room to have a scenery-free yak-fest with the girls.

My wife of six months is the love of my life, and everything I want in a woman. We’ve been together two years, and have a 6-month-old son. The problem is, and always has been, my looking at other women. I don’t usually realize I’m doing it, but my wife catches me, and is now just waiting to catch me. Honestly, when I look at them, I don't have any sort of intentions, it’s just something I do. Yet, my wife is now threatening divorce because she believes it means I don’t love her. I realize I’m doing something horrible, and I’ve mostly quit, which takes a lot of conscious effort, and that’s what’s worrying me. Is something wrong with me? Should I get professional help?

You’re only looking at women, not chasing them down telling them you’ll meet them behind the bowling alley…just as soon as you can park your stroller-bound son with somebody you trust; say, that guy lying in the doorway with the sign, “Will baby-sit for gin.”

Okay, so, if you’re with your wife, and your head swivels around like that girl’s in “The Exorcist,” you have, let’s say, a few manners issues. Think about how you’d feel if your wife were always walking down the street with a cartoon dotted line from her eyes to every passing guy’s package: “Woohoo! There’s a big’un!” But, as for the idea that you need “professional help” because your eyes are drawn to beautiful women -- that’s kind of like running off to a shrink all worried that you keep wanting to eat lunch.

The truth is, after millions of years of evolution, the impulse to ogle comes factory standard in men. At the recent Human Behavior & Evolution Society conference in Williamsburg, Virginia, I cornered Dr. David Buss, and asked him about your question. Buss told me that when men ogle women the reward centers of their brain light up. “So, it’s just inherently pleasurable for men to look” (kind of like taking a bong hit of hottie). Your wife, on the other hand, wouldn’t get the same buzz from eyeballing hot men, because, Buss explained, there aren’t corresponding reward centers that light up in women. And, he said, contrary to your wife’s fears, your inclination to eye-grope doesn’t mean you don’t love her. Buss’ book The Evolution of Desire, which details how standards for female beauty are actually cues to women’s reproductive fitness, may help both you and your wife understand your look-a-rrhea for what it is -- an evolutionary knee-jerk reaction.

Now, it’s one thing for your wife to expect you to be faithful to her, but visually faithful? What are you supposed to do, say, “Oh, no! Scarlett Johansson’s coming down the street, better hide”? Your real problem is your wife’s real problem: She’s irrational and insecure. That isn’t something you can change, but you can tell her you love her very much, and think she’s hot, and show her, too. If your eyes regularly bug out for her, maybe she’ll be less bugged if she occasionally catches them wandering down some other girl’s cleavage. And stop being such a wimp. Tell her, “Look, we have a kid, and we’re going to have a marriage, and not one that revolves around you looking to see if I’m looking.” And, remember, all men look. The smart, kind ones look without getting caught. Some do this with practice, some wear wraparounds, and some develop an affinity for tiny portions of Jell-O with a side of chickpeas -- whatever it takes to keep going back to the salad bar for another helping of bazooms.