To paraphrase Miss Browning, there are many signs to show that one is in love, or is loved, from the trite-but-true flowers and candy (does anyone else remember those delightful Vargas girls?), to scented missives dripping hyperbole and protestations of undying love.

Sometimes more subtle but nonetheless clear to the trained eye, are the signs that things are not going well. I am somewhat of an expert in this area having now survived the demise of three long-term relationships. Married at nineteen, I naively believed that love was forever. After all, the minister had pronounced words and prayers, our family and friends had witnessed our vows, it must be a done deal - right?

Wrong...

The signs were fairly clear from the start had I had the wit or experience to recognize them.

When we were first married, I was given the role of book-keeper and finance tracker. Once it became clear that I actually had a handle on our finances, they were immediately whisked from my grasp, and I was informed that we no longer needed to note everything in the ledger each month. I was no longer privy to either income or outgo - to cheque stubs, credit card receipts, bills, etc. Even shopping at the grocery store was done via a charge account - I picked up whatever we needed and he paid the charge off each month - I didn't even see that totals. ...and all because I had suggested we put a potion of our income each month into a savings account which could then be rolled over into investments or put towards a vacation.

My spouse's habit of leaving the house for work right after breakfast and only returning from the company of his buddies at the local watering hole well after our son had been put to bed should have been a clue that things were not going well. I had attempted to become part of the night-crowd before our son was born, but as I didn't drink then I was an unwelcome tag-along.

Learning to drive the family car was another big no-no until we moved to a remote northern community. Then my weekly outing to the nearest town that boasted an actual modern supermarket was viewed in a different light - it became the weekly booze run, complete with cash and shopping lists from the neighbours.

Another sign we were in trouble was the discovery of the deep philosophical gulf that separated us. I almost fell into this gulf on three occasions.

A young, attractive, female teacher was raped by several of her students. She and her husband left town not long after as the students' parents made the woman's position untenable - small town, powerful parents. When I asked the father of my child what he would do if I were (God forbid) ever raped, he absolutely floored me by saying it would depend what I had done to bring it about.

In our family dictionary of the time, rape was defined as "the forcible knowledge or taking of a woman without her consent..." I was so shocked by his response I was unable to adequately frame my reply, but I could hear the coffin nails being pounded. Strike One!

To be sure, we disagreed about a number of things, including how best to educate our son, a very intelligent and chatty little fellow. We disagreed about our finances. My spouse felt that any money that came into our house was his to dispose of as he chose, and took it very hard that I immediately spent whatever I earned to prevent this. I had no other bank account but "ours", and was required to have my husband's signature on any account I chose to open - even the business account I eventually opened. Small town - one bank.

One evening over coffee with two of my girl friends, we strayed into a dangerous topic, one I knew would be fraught with conflict. Sure enough, he heard us and decided to join in. One of "the girls" took great offense to my spouses comments, and let him know how she felt. I was feeling a bit chirpy, backed by my friends, and opened my mouth in her support, contradicting his orneriness's position. The evening eventually ended with hugs all round, and compliments for the stimulating debate, but I could see the gathering storm clouds.

After my friends had left, he finally got down to it and I learned that I was not ever, under any circumstances, allowed to disagree with him in public. I asked if that meant in the privacy of our home and in front of two of my friends (there were no other males present to witness the heresy). The edict was immediately amended to "never diagree with him, under any circumstances, at all". Strike Two.

Strike Three turned out to be the accumulated effects of the two years of infighting that finally resulted in my going away to college and getting an education. Without the backing of several of our friends, it would never happened, and I will always be grateful for their help, guidance, clever tactics, and support. That was also the final straw that broke the marriage's back.

Surprise!

I'll bet you thought this was going to be one of those helpful, light and positive columns full of sage advice on what to look for and what to do once you spot it. Bear in mind, that though some of us make rather disastrous choices, we still may need to be hit over the head with a two-by-four.

The basic signs can include secretiveness, lack of respect for your feelings, lack of communication, lack of intimacy, separate friends, separate vacations, separate beds - in short anything that works for one may not work for you, and things that don't work for others may work for you.

People will often say one thing but show you another with their behaviour. Ask questions - if you don't get answers, or you don't like the answers, get help. Untwist your knickers and talk to your spouse, talk to a friend, talk to a counsellor. Trust your instincts ...and take you head out of the sand. Not knowing is worse.