My father didn’t talk to me for three years. Not a sentence. Not a word. Not a syllable. Not a hello, good-bye, how are you? Not an “I love you” for 3 x 365 = 1,095 days. Life is very short, and three years is a huge chunk of time.
A reader asks: “I’ve been going to gay bars for years. This is how I enjoy life, how I meet friends and meet dates. But now everything is closed because of COVID-19, and could be closed for months. Even Meetups have stopped, and dating online is futile. I know it will pass, but… help!”
A reader asks: “I’ve been ill for months now. And I’ve been telling my primary doctor that I know what’s wrong with me. But he keeps saying, “the tests don’t prove it.” But I’m sure I know myself. What do I do?”
A reader asks: “After seven years with the same person, our relationship has become sexually stale. Some of our friends who are also couples say, ‘Try different and alternative sexual activities.’ Don’t you think sexual “alternatives” are cop-outs?”
A reader asks: “I met someone at the bar who says he “wants to be with me,” yet doesn’t want to do non-bar related stuff together, not even a movie. When I confront him, he compares me to his abusive ex. Is there an unhealthy issue I haven’t figured out?”