Dear Queenie,

My mother is a perfectionist and nothing I have ever done was good enough to satisfy her. After a while I just gave up trying.

I keep in touch with her out of sense of duty, but not as often as she would like so she accuses me of neglecting her.

Queenie, if she would show me some love and acceptance, I might be willing to have more to do with her, but like I said, nothing is good enough for her so I just stay away.—Sad daughter

Dear Queenie,

The single lady who lives next door has the habit of asking my husband for help when something goes wrong like a leaky faucet or her car battery goes dead, and he always runs right over to fix the problem.

Queenie, am I being silly to wonder what else he might be doing for her (or with her)?—Suspicious wife

Dear Queenie,

The single lady who lives next door has the habit of asking my husband for help when something goes wrong like a leaky faucet or her car battery goes dead, and he always runs right over to fix the problem.

Queenie, am I being silly to wonder what else he might be doing for her (or with her)?—Suspicious wife

Dear Queenie,

A favorite lady friend of mine is suffering from what I call the Madame Butterfly syndrome. Living close to the shore, she believes that one fine day her lover will appear and sweep her off her feet. It is true that one day a Belgian shipwrecked sailor did make his desperate appearance at her homestead wearing little more than a microscopic speedo. But is that any motive to confuse idealism with fantasy?

I love this person very much, but how can I persuade her that life is not a bowl of roses and that romance is not the product of an over-imaginative brain? Even so, whereas one should not look desperately for love, love has a way of finding you!

Queenie, what do you think?—Puzzled and perplexed