You know, these days, I don't think a woman who lives with a man who's allegedly getting a divorce needs the kinds of judgments that have been loaded upon her. Scarlet A, anyone?

She's created enough of a set of risks for herself, and she's about to pay for them, in my opinion. Look: you may love him, and it's clear you do, and you want in the worst way to get married. If you get married to this character, it will be in the worst way.

Okay, there's been angst, drama, empathy, sympathy, and it can be enthralling: much more so than going out with a nice guy, making plans, taking things one step at a time. You're 29. You're worth more than Sturm und Drang. Keep it for the opera.

You tried. You loved someone. You tried to keep him. I am certain you did your utmost for him.

And I am equally certain that he has enjoyed his ass off, having two women battling to gain his attention. As worthwhile as the love and even the pain may have been and still may be, -he is not emotionally available.- That, even more than the legality of it, is what makes me think that you'd better look out for yourself. You're good at it. You're 29. You glommed onto a guy who was shedding a wife who was a bitch (aren't they all). You have time -- and please God that you've learned your lesson not to go after unavailable men.

Look, please God this woman's lump is benign. Then, all you need to do is cope with his coping with her trauma. Besides, I wouldn't wish breast cancer on anyone. If it's malignant, he is going to move out on you in order to tend her. If it's not malignant, he could do so because she's so freaked and, naturally, any attempt at autonomy for her will go by the wayside.

You're not wimping out on him and being SELFISH; you're being smart if you say "look, this is hard for everyone. You have a right to your feelings, but most of them don't seem to involve me because you're legitimately concerned. Here's my address, my phone, and my e-mail. I hope the biopsy is clean. If you go through with the divorce, I'd be delighted to see you again, BUT GET YOUR HEAD TOGETHER.

This can be a tough pattern, and some men can sense it. Seven months is long enough. Don't be a sap. What you guys have had, you've had. But I'm afraid you've had it.

I live in NYC, and the high-end stores are slashing prices. I mostly don't go into them for three reasons:

1. They're a zoo.

2. I'm overextended and cutting back

3. I did my holiday shopping online where I could take advantage of sales and shipping discounts or freebies while selecting what I wanted -- and no more -- from a range of gifts that I think will please the people I care about at reasonable prices -- WITHOUT EXTRANEOUS TEMPTATIONS, subliminals, or the risk of getting run over by a stroller.

I've also wrapped my gifts, listening to TRISTAN UND ISOLDE on WQXR, bagged them, and now have only a few to ship. I've also got my Chanukah candles (Christian, Jewish, pagan...I'm part of a mixed group).

THUS FAR, I'm fortunate enough to have a very good job. I'm a writer; I'm writing. It may not be the sort of writing that Cary Tennis and the Angst Kidz consider Lit-ra-chure, but I am providing explanations and some reassurance about investments to people who need it, and frankly, I regard it as a valuable service. AND intrinsically interesting. AND consider myself very lucky.

So I work harder, and I listen to a lot of music.

I've given myself an inestimable present for the holidays: NO SCOLDINGS. Do I go in for retail therapy? Yup. Can I make my nut? Yup. Is it getting harder? That too. So I make an adult decision and cut back. What I do not do is berate myself or other people. I don't get points for scolding. I don't give points. I give to beggars and other people who need money -- my way of putting my money where my mouth would have been.

Does scolding or self-recrimination make people feel better? Seriously: does it? Because it makes me feel awful, and I'd really rather not feel awful. I'm the one subvocalizing "we need a little Christmas." Or Yule, Chanukah, Solstice, Kwanzaa, whatever.

Funny, to me, that isn't lecture-worthy. To me, that's accepting consequences. But I never got off lecturing.

Not till now. If you want to spit in your soup, I can't stop you. But don't spit in mine or tell me what the consequences of my comments will inevitably lead to.

Tempus, if Straczynski's remaking FORBIDDEN PLANET, he's earned my trust.

But when did he work on Tolkien?

Do they at least say the words?

Try empathy, rather than outrage.

Don't let me forget my manners. That was a charming compliment. Shiraz, please.