My boyfriend of two years has been living with his parents for four years. He's 49, and first said he had an apartment near them but never wanted me to come over. I soon caught on, and he confessed he was ashamed of being in debt and living at home. I gave him another chance because we get along well, except for money. (I'm frugal and he can't hang onto a dollar.) The biggie happened last week. I discovered he'd actually lived in his parents' basement with his wife and kids for several years before they divorced. I don't know if I'm more upset because he lied or because he put his wife and kids in a basement for so long.

So he didn't exactly take you on a tour of the home he lived in with his wife and kids: "And here we have the master bedroom..." and you look down on two sleeping bags zipped together on bare cement next to the furnace. "And here we have the kids' room..." a big plaid suitcase from the '70s. (Hmm...maybe the baby slept in the bowling bag?)

Even if what happened in the basement stayed in the basement, there had to be signs the guy wasn't exactly the financial genius of our time...like, he pays the electric bill by setting up a lemonade stand, and when he picks you up for dates, instead of opening the car door, he helps you onto the handlebars.

Men and women on the make both lie, just about different things. Because men are hard-wired to prioritize looks, women spend hours painting themselves into "natural beauties," and squeeze into "shapewear" with names like "Lipo in a BOX." Because women go for men with money and power, a man's more likely to be like my friend Frank, who wanted me to take a picture of him leaning on a Porsche so he could send it to the girl he'd been chatting up online. "But, Frank, you're going to pick her up in your late-model Nissan and take her to your one-bedroom apartment!" He pouted, "Well, it's not like I'm saying it's MY Porsche."

Come on...you're angry because you found out the guy stashed his wife and kids in a basement? His live wife and kids, not their mummified corpses? This is the kind of thing men who are chronically broke are forced to do. Maybe what's really eating you is what a bad investment you've made: putting in two years with a guy for whom moving up in the world means going from his parents' basement into his parents' garage. In his defense, at least he has the decency, if not to put a roof over his kids' heads, then to mooch one.

In your own defense, you say "we get along well, except for money." Except for money? That's a bit beyond "He's into Muzak and I'm into metal." At 49, the guy's still working on getting his starter apartment -- a reflection of a rather serious character flaw. Has he given you any reason to believe he'll have it patched up by 50? Instead of pretending not to see the dealbreakers so you can make the deal, be honest about your standards, and hold your dates up to them from the start. If what you really want is a man who's fiscally responsible, you're never going to be happy with a man who might be able to bring home the bacon, but only if you give him an advance on his allowance and send him to the grocery store in your car.

This year, I've been going through the process of divorcing my husband. We're on good terms and share joint custody of our children. The same night we separated, I inadvertently met someone. I was asking for directions to the restroom and ended up spending the evening with him. After staying with him for a few weeks, I just moved in instead of getting my own place. We haven't had sex yet -- I believe in waiting until I'm married -- but I believe I've found the man for me. We've discussed marriage and starting a family, he accepts my relationship with my ex, and understands my commitment to my children. But, everyone's warning me I'm moving too fast. Am I wrong for following my heart?

You aren't one of those cheap and easy girls who's all, "He had me at hello." No, with you it was, "He had me at 'Turn left and you should see the ladies' room.'"

Of course, you won't have sex with a guy just because he knows directions to the toilet; you'll only move in with him. This must be a great comfort to your children: "Hey, kiddiepoos...Mommy just shacked up with a near stranger! There, there...no need for tears! After all, Stranger Man and I aren't 'doing it' yet, and don't plan to until we get hitched...which we'll do just as soon as I finish divorcing Daddy!"

Are you wrong for "following (your) heart"? Apparently, you haven't heard, but your heart isn't the organ with the brain cells. I'm guessing you've also been doing some thinking with your left lung and other organs not well-suited to the task, as evidenced by your remark, "He accepts my relationship with my ex, and understands my commitment to my children." And you know this how? Because he said so, the second night, after he made room for your bras and underwear in his sock drawer?

I'm all for a seize-the-day style of living -- if you're a birth control aficionado like me who refers to herself as "Barren!" But, the right to put your needs, whims, and desires first ends the day you push out something that calls you "Mommy." You don't mention where your kids are sleeping, but let's hope "shared custody" doesn't mean they're rooming with you and what's-his-name. Even if they're not, your commitment to your children should include keeping your home environment as stable as possible and not acting like an utter idiot -- and teaching them to act like utter idiots by example.

While you claim "I believe I've found the man for me," you really have little idea what you've found -- except maybe a guy who's desperate and needy enough to commit to living together before the first date. The fact that you're probably equally desperate and needy doesn't make you two a perfect match -- just emotionally unhealthy in the same way. You can't really know somebody until you've spent a serious chunk of time with them. You need to get a place of your own and spend time alone until you find it nuts to say some guy's the guy for you because you have yet to explore all the ways he isn't. With that as your standard, of course this guy seems perfect for you -- as will countless others: "Be a dear, put down that bloody ax and guide me to the ladies' room, will you?"

I disagree with your advice to "The Hunted," the woman who said a co-worker was stalking her at work. I agree she should be more direct, but what about "He's been asking co-workers about me and finding me on breaks" says this guy's harmless? Sometimes those "little things" turn ugly fast. A woman should heed that warning bell that something's wrong. Yet, you mocked her, saying, "Come on, a guy at work gives you reason to believe he has a crush on you and the shower music from 'Psycho' comes into your head?" Do you really think "Thanks, but no thanks" will deter him? She needs to say it ONCE in front of witnesses. Then it's Human Resources time.

Yesterday, I asked a stock boy at the supermarket to help me get a jar off the top shelf. Before he could, another stock boy handed it to me. The first stock boy pouted, "I wish I coulda helped you." Later, he circled back and complimented me on my skirt. So, I tased him.

Okay, I didn't exactly tase him. I thanked him and kept shopping -- probably a dumb move, since, as you point out, "Sometimes those 'little things' turn ugly fast." Yeah, you never know when the stock boy'll follow you to your car, clock you with a can of tomato paste, drive you to your place and make you watch as he gets your Wheaties down for you.

I'm not saying women shouldn't be careful. I'm saying they shouldn't go hysterical the moment they get attention from a man. Take this woman, who claimed she was being "stalked." The U.S. Department of Justice defines stalking as "repeated and unwanted attention, harassment, (or) contact...that would cause a reasonable person to feel fear." Whoops! There's that warning bell you mention. Only, if this woman heard one, it was "Ding! Ding! Ding! He's beneath me! He's ugly and socially awkward, and he's asking me out!"

Sure, he asked co-workers about her -- a quaint thing people with crushes used to do in the days before Googling. And sure, he's tried to bump into her on her breaks. A few times, not 300. That's probably why she wasn't seeking advice on protecting herself, but snarky ways to tell a loser she's out of his league. Do I really think "Thanks, but no thanks" will deter him? Well, probably better than "Shoot me an e-mail" -- her response when he said he hadn't stopped thinking about her. Most obediently, he complied, and invited her out for a meal. She still didn't turn him down. Instead, she e-mailed me, telling me she'd reported the guy to her boss: "This man asked me to lunch! Or dinner, if that was better for me."

Now, I'm guessing the guy wears button-downs, not a jeweled turban, and uses Word for Windows, not Word for Crystal Ball. If so, the telepathic "no" won't cut it -- you actually have to tell him you aren't interested: clearly, firmly, the sooner, the better. If, after you shut him down once or twice, he keeps after you, that's when you call for reinforcements. But, stalking expert Gavin de Becker advises in The Gift of Fear, if more women would "explicitly reject" advances, "stalking cases would decline dramatically." Meanwhile, more women should also recognize that the "gift of fear" is the gift of appropriate fear -- being alert to danger, but understanding that, most of the time, "Have a nice day" means "Have a nice day," not "Have a nice day bound and gagged in my trunk."

It's hard being as conscious as I am, which is why I come to you. I'm a 23-year-old man with high standards and a belief in being honest and frank, which some mistake for cruelty. My knowledge of self and understanding of others makes it hard for me to find a girlfriend. I've never initiated dates except for nerdy "going for coffee but she doesn't know it's a date" dates. I just can't shake the feeling that women I'm attracted to have men coming on to them constantly. I don't want to add to their burden, so I find myself waiting for women to come on to me. This seldom happens, so I end up settling for women who pursue me, which is where my honesty perceived as cruelty comes in. Recently, I became attracted to a co-worker. I told her of my attraction, and asked her to lunch. She agreed to go, but said, "I want you to know it's just as friends. I have to cover my bases." This was unsettling, but I still took her. She's seemed on guard ever since -- proving to me that I was a burden.

If you have a drinking problem, you go to an A.A. meeting and say, "Hi, my name is Bob, and I'm an alcoholic," not "Hi, my name is Socrates. I'm here to share my vast knowledge of self and others, right after I toss back a coupla shots."

Sorry, but your problem isn't that you're too perceptive, too in-touch, and too sensitive to the needs of others, but that there's no personal shortcoming you can't spin into a humanitarian gesture or a sign of what a genius of human nature you are. Take your "belief in being honest and frank" -- at least, with any girl you settle for: "Here, darling, my 32-page illustrated report on all the ways you're beneath me." Somehow, I'm guessing you manage to restrain yourself from marching over to the husky trucker in the Kwik-E-Mart and announcing, "Hey, tubby, you might wanna rethink those Ho Hos."

As for what's actually keeping you from getting a girlfriend -- could it be that you rarely ask women out on anything remotely perceivable as a date? There was that one woman, that co-worker. Technically, you did ask her out -- for lunch at high noon, the least date-like time of the day. And, perhaps that was the point: it would technically be a date, but without any pressure on you to do anything terribly date-like. I mean, when's the last time you saw two people sharing a lingering first kiss while pressed up against the sneeze guard of a busy salad bar?

Of course, you mucked things up from the start by spitting up your feelings all over her shoes ("I told her of my attraction..."). When you don't know how somebody feels about you, you don't go all full-frontal with your feelings for them. Consider the difference between "Wanna have sex with me?" and "Would you like to come up and see my etchings?" which Harvard psych professor Steven Pinker addresses in "The Stuff Of Thought." With the latter, the girl is reasonably sure you aren't looking to guide her around a late-night art exhibition, but "indirect speech" allows both of you to maintain what Pinker calls "a comfortable fiction." The same goes for asking a co-worker out for after-work cocktails. Unlike lunch, the evening can morph into a date. If it doesn't, you can spin it as friendly drinks, or your new program, "No Co-worker Goes Home Thirsty" -- which you should find much easier on the ego than your old program, "An Audience With Genius: An Unwanted Declaration Of Attraction, Followed By A Long, Awkward Free Lunch."

My boyfriend of 10 years proposed on Christmas Eve. Excited, I said yes! The truth is, financially and emotionally, he's not at my level. He lives with his mother and hasn't had a job the ENTIRE 10 years we've been together. He looks at least 10 years older than he is, and I suspected him of having a drug problem, and cheating on me, too. To cut to the point, I simply do not want him. I make $50K a year, own my home, am attractive, in shape, etc. I'm in my late 30s and smart enough to know that the problem isn't him, it's me. So, what allowed me to stay so long and waste so much time trying to change him? Why did I work so hard to persuade others he was a great guy when, in my heart of hearts, I knew he was garbage?

This guy's the slacker version of the Energizer Bunny, napping and napping and napping -- except when he jolts awake to get high, cheat on you, or yell, "Hey, Ma! Another beer!"

As total failures go, the guy's been a stunning success. Most men can only dream of living like Hugh Hefner, who has three girlfriends, but had to build a vast publishing empire, buy a mansion, and put in a zoo and waterfalls to keep them around. Granted, your boyfriend only has two women in his life; apparently, his reward for keeping his pot plants out of his mother's begonias, opening his bedroom door when she brings up his neatly folded laundry, and picking up the phone when you call to say, "Hello, this is your girlfriend, how can I provide you with excellent enabling today?"

Now, let's say some matchmaker-type asked you, "Hey, how about a cheating, drug-abusing, prematurely aged boyfriend who hasn't worked for 10 years and lives with his mother?" I'm guessing your response wouldn't have been, "Wowee, stack up the bridal magazines!" But, maybe, when you met the guy, you weren't really ready for a relationship, so the wrong guy was kinda right. And then you felt compelled to defend having spent so much time with him, which only led to you spending more and more time with him -- until his Christmas Eve proposal made a certain someone the happiest woman in the world. Not you, silly. Think of the joy his mother must've felt at the news that sonny boy might finally leave home.

As for your excitement, it was probably part generic wedding lust and part bragging rights: "A man asked me to marry him!" (Yeah, but which man?) More than anything else, getting engaged gave you the perfect justification for why you stuck around doing all that justifying for 10 long years. Yeah, you were dumb. But, you had help. It seems our brains are wired for self-justification. In Mistakes Were Made (but not by me), social psychologists Carol Tavris and Elliot Aronson explain that most people, when confronted with evidence that their beliefs or actions are harmful, immoral, or stupid, "do not change their point of view or course of action but justify it even more tenaciously." Recognizing that you have this tendency is the best way to avoid succumbing to it -- along with forcing yourself to be ruthlessly honest about what you're doing and why you're doing it. Admitting your mistakes should keep you from marrying them, tempting as it must be when a man gets down on one knee, holds out a twist-tie with a chunk of rock candy glued to it, and says, "Hey, Babe, how'dja like to take over my weekly allowance payment from Mom?"