I've often thought that therapy would be wonderful. To be able to sit down and spout about all the angsty bollocks I'm going through to a total stranger ... then I'd guess you're told you need to go back, and back, and then it becomes addictive, and you need your therapy hit.

Anyhow, I've never been (except to a child psychologist, and "they're different dear"). Can't afford it for one, and I have here. My GA blog. The bestest thing since sliced bread.

So. On to relationships, and more pertinently the guy I'm in love with who thinks he isn't good looking, but thinks I am. which is sweet, except that I think he's good looking and I'm not.

We both seem to suffer from an inordinate lack of self esteem. Both of us know it, and yet ... why do we still go through all this? Ultimately if we grow old together we're both going to end up looking awful and wrinkly and all the other things that happen with old age ... but doesn't love conquer all? Isn't that what it's all about?

Camy