A relationship slut is a girl or guy that moves from relationship to relationship to Ben & Jerry’s to relationship. Possibly more interesting than actual sluts, they always earnestly believe that they’ve fallen in a deep, faithful, exaggerated love.

The optimism of these select few is hardly ever mirrored by her closest friends, though. If you have a friend like this, you probably know that hearing about each new love, with all of the bubbling enthusiasm, can make you grow skeptical, cynical and even angry, especially if you’re single. I contend standerbys feel this way because a relationship slut, although often unconsciously so, is tossing around a concept so dear to us: love. And treating love lightly can make it lose its beauty and sensitivity.

Inspired in part by the new-release 27 Dresses (which, yes, I saw. So what?), in which Katherine Heigl’s character helps bride after bride marry, I started thinking about how many people play similar roles in their own lives. With February comes Valentine’s Day, and there will surely be more relationship distress, merriment and confusion; this only translates into more stories told by relationship-ready women to reluctant singles. We get tired of our love-obsessed friends, the stories they tell, the typical problems they have.

My closest friend in high school could be called a relationship slut. Every couple of months he was adamantly in love, but never with the same girl, and without any respect for the former after he was done. As a friend, it was taxing. My most immediate reaction toward the end, when he’d reveal a new pursuit, was always the same: “Oh my god, not again… really!?” followed by “Do we have to go through these infatuations and problems with yet another girl?!”

It is difficult to have a friend that takes relationships lightly. Not only does it make us pessimistic, it takes us more energy to enter relationships and weakens our faith in the relationships we are in. Also, it just sucks.

Now, I hope you would never have 27 friends who are relationship slutty (poor Katherine Heigl), but you may have one friend with about 27 of these relationships. The solution is simple: you need to either ground them in reality (”That drunken frat boy will probably not be ‘the one.’”) or encourage it for yet another round of the same (”He was a kind of cute drunken frat boy.”)

You’ll probably be tempted to create some distance out of sheer annoyance. Don’t do it. Just bear with your overly irrational friend, and laugh at her, or him, through each of the 27.

The scenario is dismal for commitment in the United States. You need look no further than our obsession with “newness”: our computers, MP3 players and cell phones become outdated the minute we buy them. Do we have an obsession with upgrading?

Maybe. As Americans, we are almost leading the world in divorce rates. (USA Today reports that divorce rates in America are declining — but that’s because fewer people are getting married.) Meanwhile, Italy’s rates are almost one-fifth of ours, and fewer than one percent of all marriages in India end in divorce. Sure, divorce is a more acceptable course of action in our country than others, and that must skew the statistics a bit; but perhaps it is a part of American culture to grow dissatisfied with our partners and replace them, like we replace our iPods, for the better, fresher model.

A growing acceptance for infidelity in the media only worsens matters, a trend that I find dangerous and discouraging. As an audience, we are more than willing to forgive a cheating protagonist when we believe that he or she is in love with the object of the affair: Julia Jentsch in The Edukators and Keri Russell in Waitress are prime examples. And we all sang along to “Scotty doesn’t know” in EuroTrip. On some level, we are glamorizing infidelity, leaving the plodding mundanity of commitment in the dust.

But it isn’t just cheating. Instability in relationships is, more often than not, tied to emotional immaturity. You shouldn’t believe for a second that once somebody hits the big 1-8 that they know anything about how to make decisions concerning relationships. Being an adult in the eyes of the law has absolutely no correlation with emotional maturity. So if he’s messing around, it may be because of problems with the relationship, but it’s just as likely that the problems actually lie within him, or you, or either of your abilities to commit. More than one-third of people in America who marry between 20 and 25 eventually get divorced, but the rate of divorce plummets to much safer levels for every five years thereafter. Age and emotional intelligence go together; as one goes up, so does the other. Maybe it’s an explanation, among others, for why women tend to date older men: they’re more emotionally mature.

Now, people in other countries tend to get married at younger ages than we do, but they still have lower rates of divorce — and presumably a stronger stomach for commitment. If we break up more frequently than people around the world do, then there’s something up with us, plain and simple. (Even the French are staying together longer and more often than we are.)

Are we too reluctant to emotionally invest in something that might mean forever? In a culture geared toward quantity and a disinterest in quality, I think that we reminisce more about our sexual conquests than our fulfilling and worthwhile relationships. All of these signs suggest that we have a weak understanding of commitment, but this should be nothing new. I still contend that it’s ingrained in our lives beyond our relationships. In the same way a high school student joins six clubs just to list them on a college application, we forget the essence of our membership and the reasons why we join them. We should be joining these clubs, and entering into relationships, because we are committed to each one specifically.

So why do we enter relationships? The question should be asked, either internally or verbally, every time we enter one. It is a hard question, but it’s invaluable. I can recall a time when my reason was “more guaranteed sex” — a repulsive, but common, reason people will enter a relationship, only to find they can’t commit.

If you’re still making those kinds of decisions about relationships, you need to rethink what you want from them. If you are not compatible with your partner at all, and there is no specific quality that stands out, and not even the slightest possibility for the relationship to change your life or your perspective, then it will fail. It might not fail immediately. It might even take a while, and you might even deceive yourself. You’ll get love-struck in the first couple of dates and the sex will be as romantic as it is great, but that will change. As soon as that DVR gets outdated, or as soon as you can list that club, you’ll replace it, or add a new one.

It happens like this: The cute Turkish guy in your class was just a friend until you ran into him on a Friday night at a frat house. You’d had him in the back of your mind for some time, and you were pleasantly surprised that he happened to be here.

The game, if you will, is played from here on out. Think of these social situations like fishing. The goal is to catch a fish and you’re using a line, a hook and some bait. The fish is largely interested in the bait and you’re interested in hooking the fish. Now, if you tie the bait too loosely to the hook, the fish will simply bite the bait and leave, unhooked. If it’s tied just right though, you’ll give the bait to the fish only if it’s hooked — on you, that is.

Your appeal hinges upon a couple of key elements that are often overlooked, but are true when first exchanging glances or maintaining the flame in your relationship. Your appeal lies in your value. The beautiful part, however, is that you can influence your how men perceive your value.

One of the key words behind these ideas is restraint. I don’t suggest assuming another persona when speaking to men. Deception is harmful to whomever you’re pursuing but to yourself as well. Restraint of your natural character is the name of the game, and its played only by controlling the rate at which you let yourself go. Restraint is the only difference between the most promiscuous girl on campus and the most upstanding one.

Always keep options around. It’s crucial. Start talking to that nerdy boy in the corner or that close gay friend — anything to let him know that you’ve got other men in your life. If it seems like there are other options in your life then he perceives that other men have picked up on your value. There is little that will excite a man more than that.

Finally, there’s nothing like a healthy amount of indifference when speaking to him. Don’t blow him off but not everything he says needs to fascinate you. And the next day, don’t jump to answer his calls or go out of your way to see him. If he’s as interested as you want him to be, then this will only further spark his interest, and he’ll definitely call again.

Touchy-feely pop culture (think Seventeen magazine) tells you to be yourself. This is good advice, but has its limitations. If being yourself is groveling at the feet of a lover or calling a half-dozen times a day with no response, you need to reevaluate your approach.

Even if you are in a relationship these rules still apply. Just because he’s switched his Facebook status doesn’t mean you can let down your guard. Though many girls promise themselves to only have sex with their boyfriends, they shouldn’t have sex the second he is their boyfriend either. You’ve got to keep your distance and let him know you’ve still got options. Don’t forget to make him jealous every once in a while, because in small doses, it only adds more fuel to the flames.

You see, your relationship is always open. You’ve made a mistake the second you believe otherwise. This is not an attack on fidelity. Both men and women should feel the threat of competition, even in their relationships, because there are always other men and women! Women, if you don’t believe me, think about it. He thinks about other girls, just as you think of other guys.

The point is: It’s crucial to never sell yourself short. You’re asserting your value. You’re ensuring that the only boys you deal with are the ones that know it.