WASHINGTON — She loves her fiance, but he's not helping with the bills. Should she kick him to the curb or keep the relationship going?

A group of advice-giving seniors at a Gaithersburg, Md., retirement home pondered the letter-writer's query for about a nanosecond before 96-year-old Stephanie Martenson, sitting behind her walker and ringed by 14 other seniors in a mauve-carpeted multipurpose room, issued her verdict.

"Dump him," she said.

"He's bad news," agreed the retired Rev. Bernard Fogle, gripping his cane.

Theirs is the advice of grandparents, but not the kind who bake your favorite cookies or tell you that you look too thin. These are cybergrandparents, a fast-growing group of seniors offering up their experience and wisdom to the younger generation's confused and troubled, via the Internet.

About 600 of these elders from all over the country — 60 and older — have answered more than 60,000 requests to the Elder Wisdom Circle Web site for free, personalized advice.

A book compiling their advice is due out next year, and they're in negotiations for a reality TV pilot.

Unrequited love, a lagging sex drive, finances run amok, nonflowering begonias — no topic is off-limits.

"Once you reach a certain age, nothing shocks you," said Doug Meckelson, the 45-year-old San Francisco businessman who founded the group in 2001.

He says a recent study in the American Sociological Review showing that one in four Americans has no one to confide in, demonstrates the need for seniors to give advice online.

"You're probably not going to ask a 90-year-old about the best iPod to buy," Meckelson said. "But they've picked up a lot of practical knowledge on how to deal with relationships."

Arthritis may keep Karin Cobb from traveling or becoming a docent at a nearby museum. But she's poured her experience as a nurse, teacher and mother into 1,800 advice letters.

"It allows me to be a productive member of society, something I've always been and something I always want to be," said Cobb, 64, of Tucson, Ariz.

Like Cobb, most members of Elder Wisdom Circle respond to queries using their own computers. But some groups, such as the one in Gaithersburg — called Asbury Friends — advise by consensus, using a "facilitator" to compile their comments for the Web.

Joy Mendoza, 27, turned to the site because she needed objective advice, and not necessarily from someone with a degree.

"It's about experience," she said.

Still, she wondered whether she should use large type in writing her letter.

"I was like, 'Old people using the computer? Are you sure?' " said the mortgage loan officer from Long Beach, Calif. "I couldn't even teach my mom how to use the mouse."

Within a few days, "Rose" — her nom de advice — was counseling Mendoza on how to confront her boyfriend about a problem involving his mother. Don't sugarcoat anything, was the gist of Rose's advice.

Rose, a retired teacher in Canada, has a knack for telling it like it is. In one letter posted on the Elder Wisdom Circle Web site, she delivered a serious smackdown to a married guy looking for love with another woman.

"You need to step up to the plate, sir," she wrote. "You are in danger of depriving yourself of the very reasons that make your life meaningful."

Indeed, some advice-seekers can inspire exasperation. Mary Featherstone, 83, who lives with her husband of 59 years at the Gaithersburg retirement home, gasped as the facilitator read a letter from a woman who wanted a divorce because she and her husband "just don't get along anymore."

Then the facilitator read that the couple has two children — an infant and a toddler.

"Oh, my golly! Wow!" said Featherstone, whose own parents separated when she was 13. Her gold charm bracelet jangled as her arm shot up to respond.

"I think those children need both parents," she said, "and I think the parents are being ... Oh ... They need counseling."

While the elders' role isn't to practice medicine or professional counseling over the Internet, some just happen to be retired from the medical field, such as Tom Davis, 63, of Monument, Colo.

Even after a career as a physician and hospital executive, Davis found himself with a lump in his throat as he typed his response to a terminally ill father who wondered how to tell his 5-year-old daughter about his prognosis. He tries to stay away from "being a doctor in these things."

Sometimes Davis frets over his words, hoping he's chosen the right ones. He may edit a response five times and sleep on it before sending it.

"It's worth it because you think you may have helped a person and you never submitted a bill, they never addressed you by a title," he said. "They can take it or leave it."

LEARN MORE

www.elderwisdomcircle.org