For starters, I must confess I’m an absolute addict of Agony Aunt Columns. Give me a woman’s mag, and that’s the page I instantly ferret out. It’s a voyeuristic impulse at work, perhaps. But I believe there’s more.

I secretly envy the job of the Agony Aunts. I mean, what can be easier than doling out advice to tormented folks? Tips on how to live life are so much easier than actually living it. And I never fail to be amazed by how the many varied life-situations can be pared down to the same bare bones, the fundamental human predicament of lovelessness.

Recently, I came across a letter that presented another universal predicament. The kind that must be as old as Agony Aunts themselves: X loves Y, but she doesn’t love his Mom. What should she do? Can life get more hackneyed, more predictable than this? I mean, surely life ought to spring a few surprises on the familial front at times? But no, it looks like some things don’t change at all.

What bothered me, however, was auntie’s response: Dear X: she wrote, “...don’t forget that family life is very important to everyone. As someone who intends to marry into the family, you must make an effort to win the affection and respect of his mother. Never mind if she doesn’t reciprocate. Give it time and ‘MA’ will learn to love you too.” Frankly, dear reader, I was nauseated to read Auntie laying a guilt trip on this hapless, already-troubled letter-writer.

The term ‘mother-in-law’ has more of a legal than a familial ring to it. Sounds like you have to wave a marriage certificate at her face every morning, and she her son’s birth certificate at yours. But no, I am empathically ‘not’ suggesting that you call her ‘Ma’ instead. I have a deep mistrust of those who start calling their husband’s mother ‘Ma or Mummy’ overnight. Motherhood is serious business, and I believe moms are too precious to be replicated.

On second thoughts, never mind mothers-in-law and friends. I’m beginning to believe what’s really in short supply in this world is Agony Aunts. Really good-sound-sensible-progressive one, I mean.

Of course, I certainly don’t consider myself perfect, but if you do feel inclined to write in with your pet peeves and torments, I really wouldn’t say no.