Many Lifetime flicks contain the spouse with the "hidden past," the psychotic neighbor or babysitter or student, who usually whacks a few folks and at the climax wields a carving knife at the hero or heroine. Most of the balance of the network's offerings are like this one: all sorts of romantic, sexual and family angst amount the personnel in the cast.<br /><br />Here, Gail O'Grady (moving-up on Meredith Baxter in this genre), and her daughter deal with all sorts of feminine romantic problems, but if there is any relationship to "real life," I didn't see it.<br /><br />Everyone has problems, and they all have a significant depth to the person(s) dealing with them, and one has to deal with them as they occur, and proceed onward.<br /><br />If real-life problems can sometimes occur in what might be termed "ten-foot square by a mile deep," Gail's problems here, as with most femme leads in this type of offering, seem to be "a mile wide and three feet deep." One follows another, and there is no way to empathize either with her or her daughter in any realistic manner.<br /><br />And where the female characters here are shallow and somewhat vacuous, the males (typically on Lifetime) are doophuses, and (if possible) even more shallow.<br /><br />The actors are pleasant in appearance, C-level in terms of material and performances, and while the subject matter is not unimportant, the way it is presented here is.<br /><br />P.S. I saw this flick on a weekend morning. Was doing some other things, and another person was watching, and my fascination was in it mediocrity. The sequel, "More Sex..." had begun, and about a half-hour into it, I noticed the former lover who had impregnated her, and had earlier announced his returning to his wife (but only after "messing-up" the bed clothes with her in their hotel room) appeared at her door, announcing a now impending divorce. He was in process of wondering why she hadn't informed him of "his son," and wimping about, just as we had to leave. However, had I not had to leave the set then, I'd have changed channels. From this point I'd have preferred somebody stick a knitting needle into my eye rather than having to endure whatever the remaining 1-1/2 hours had in-store.