DEAR ABBY: I am a 52-year-old man married to "Sarah," the most wonderful woman I have ever met. She is intelligent, ethical, witty, pretty, healthy -- a great mother and grandmother. She means the world to me.

About 10 years ago, Sarah "rededicated herself to God" and lost all interest in sharing an emotional, romantic and physical connection with me. She immersed herself in her church, Bible studies, our children, cats and pottery-making.

She seems happy with this life. I am not. I want more than a brother/sister relationship with my wife. I want to travel, go dancing, hold her hand at the movies -- and to make love together.

Our marriage counselor says we may never meet each other's needs and should consider going our separate ways. However, I do not believe a man should leave his wife and family, and Sarah feels the same. Everyone would hate me if I left her -- the community, our children and Sarah herself.

I cannot imagine living 30 more years without the love I need in my life, yet I don't like the choices of divorce or loneliness. Abby, is there a third choice I'm not seeing? (An affair is out of the question.) -- HUSBAND AT A CROSSROADS IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA

DEAR HUSBAND: You have my sympathy. However, you paid good money to a qualified marriage counselor who assessed your situation correctly. You say your wife is happy with her choice. Now you must decide how you want to spend your life. And no one has the right to criticize you for whatever choice you make.

DEAR ABBY: In response to the letter about teen-agers not wearing seatbelts, I would like to share how I finally started wearing one.

I had all the excuses in the world why I didn't need one. Twenty years ago, I was a rookie cop in San Diego. I was in and out of my squad car constantly. I was convinced I needed to be ready to jump out and run at a moment's notice. Like most cops, I felt I was invincible.

My boyfriend worried that I would be in an accident. One day he walked up to my squad car and said, "Just think of the seatbelt as my arms wrapped around you, holding you until you're safely back in my arms again." From that day on, I have always buckled up. I used the same strategy with my daughter -- and now my grandson. It works. -- LESLIE HUTCHISON, FALLS CHURCH, VA.

DEAR LESLIE: I'm not surprised. That's a dose of medicine anyone would be pleased to take -- me included.

DEAR ABBY: For the past two years, I have been stepmother to two boys, ages 10 and 12. I care about them and make sure they get the attention they deserve at home and in school.

My problem: I feel guilty because I do not love them. They are nice kids, Abby, but I don't have the deep love and affection for them that I have for my nieces and nephews. Have you any suggestions? -- FEELING LIKE A WICKED STEPMOM

DEAR STEPMOM: You bet I do -- and the first is to stop feeling guilty about it. Be patient with yourself. Love takes time to grow and it comes in many forms. You are acting in a loving and caring way, and your letter reflects your deep concern and sensitivity.

To order "How to Write Letters for All Occasions," send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds) to: Dear Abby -- Letter Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in the price.)

DEAR READERS: Letters are still coming in with suggestions for offbeat uses for pantyhose. Some of you deserve a medal for innovation. Read on:

DEAR ABBY: When the upholstered backrest of my favorite chair separated from the back panel, I tried to put the parts back together with glue, Velcro, earthquake wax (used by museums to secure priceless art objects), etc. Nothing worked.

Control-top pantyhose to the rescue! I tugged the elastic waist around the two broken pieces and lowered the pantyhose over the top of the chair to make the front and back one section again. I wrapped the legs around the whole chair twice and tied the ends in back with a firm knot. Now the chair can't fall apart. Sign me ... DID IT WITHOUT DUCT TAPE, CLAREMONT, CALIF.

DEAR ABBY: For more than 30 years, I flagged races for the American Motorcycle Association. Believe it or not, racers use pantyhose to protect themselves when they take a spill.

Because of the heat generated by intense friction, the leather pants racers wear can stick to their skin when they slide. Pantyhose allow the body to move under the leather without sticking. I learned this trick in the '60s when I saw a rider donning a pair. -- RUSS, RETIRED STARTER, HAMPTON, GA.

DEAR ABBY: This predates pantyhose a bit: Forty-four years ago, I joined the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and was required to spit-shine two pairs of brown riding boots, two pairs of black ankle boots and one pair of Wellingtons.

Each evening, after all the spit-shines were complete, a ball of nylon stockings a bit larger than a baseball was used to "fine-tune" the job.

To this day, I still have that nylon ball -- but I'll never reveal where it came from! -- R.B. IN OTTAWA

DEAR ABBY: When I worked for construction companies during the cold winter months, I found a way to keep twice as warm as the rest of the crew, who were always bundled up like Eskimos.

Having noticed women running about in cold weather with only nylon pantyhose covering their legs, I tried a pair under my work pants. Lo and behold! I was warm as toast!

After I was persistently questioned by the guys about why I wore less clothing but always seemed warmer than they were, I told them my secret, and they had a good laugh.

One by one, the rest of the crew took up the practice -- and guess who had the last laugh. -- RETIRED IN TEXAS

DEAR ABBY: People who show horses braid the legs of cut-off pantyhose into their horses' newly washed tails. Then they tie the toe ends together so the tail is looped well off the ground. This prevents the horse from stepping on its tail and prevents it from being soiled.

One of my neighbors slipped your last column about pantyhose under my door with a note: "We can top this!" I live in a large retirement community, and more than 50 lovely ladies here donate their used pantyhose for my daughter's horse. -- RUTH MARSON, POMONA, CALIF.

DEAR RUTH: I hope that wasn't a tall tail.

Good advice for everyone -- teens to seniors -- is in "The Anger in All of Us and How to Deal With It." To order, send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds only) to: Dear Abby, Anger Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)

DEAR ABBY: When I was growing up, my mother and the other ladies in our church were extremely polite to each other. However, when one of them wasn't present, the others would talk behind her back. They would compliment a woman to her face, then criticize her as soon as she walked away.

Mother always defended this behavior as a "harmless" pastime. I don't know whether or not it hurt the people who were the butt of gossip, but I know it harmed me and the children who were listening.

Their behavior taught me not to trust anyone -- especially people who were nice to my face. Instead, I trusted abusive people because I thought they were being honest. I ended up running with a bad crowd and found myself dating abusive men because I couldn't trust polite guys.

When someone complimented me, I didn't believe it, so I never developed self-confidence. I was afraid people were laughing at me behind my back. I had trouble making friends with other girls because I was afraid to open up and reveal my feelings for fear that whatever I said would become grist for the gossip mill.

After a year of therapy, I have finally found the self-confidence I lacked. My sisters haven't been so lucky. Neither has friends. Both are married to abusive men.

Abby, please inform your readers that there is nothing "harmless" about gossip, especially to children who may overhear it. -- GAINING TRUST IN GEORGIA

DEAR GAINING TRUST: Your experience and that of your sisters has stated that fact more strongly than I could have. It brings to mind a piece that has appeared in my column before. Read on:

NOBODY's FRIEND

(Author Unknown)

My name is Gossip. I have no respect for justice.

I maim without killing. I break hearts and ruin lives.

I am cunning and malicious and gather strength with age.

The more I am quoted the more I am believed.

My victims are helpless. They cannot protect themselves against me because I have no name or face.

To track me down is impossible. The harder you try, the more elusive I become.

I am nobody's friend.

Once I tarnish a reputation, it is never the same.

I topple governments and wreck marriages.

I ruin careers and cause sleepless nights, heartaches and indigestion.

I make innocent people cry in their pillows.

Even my name hisses. I am called Gossip. I make headlines and headaches.

Readers, before you repeat a story, ask yourself: Is it true? Is it harmless? Is it necessary?

If it isn't, don't repeat it.

DEAR ABBY: I spent a chunk of money on my daughter's high school graduation announcements and senior pictures. She has yet to receive even one card of congratulations from any of the friends and relatives to whom we mailed announcements. I'm hurt and disappointed. -- MISSOURI MOM

DEAR MOM: Your feelings are valid. Your daughter's achievement was praiseworthy and deserved to be acknowledged, if only with a card or congratulatory phone call.

For an excellent guide to becoming a better conversationalist and a more attractive person, order "How to Be Popular." Send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds only) to: Dear Abby Popularity Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)