My friend owns her own home, drives a Mercedes, competes in triathlons, and is a great businesswoman, yet she’s suddenly MISERABLE because she doesn’t have a “soul mate.” She’s decided this is the year she'll find “the one,” and she’s reading dating guides, studying Dr. Phil, and attending man-catcher seminars. She used to be so cheerful and fun, but lately, I avoid going out with her because she gives off desperate vibes, is weird and competitive, and kind of a drag. When I hint that she’d do better if she chilled a bit, she accuses me of trying to “get ahead” of her, as if there’s some soul mate derby or something. (I actually think of myself as “fabulously single.”) I want my old friend back; am I just being selfish?

As you suggest, the moment your friend got desperate for love is the moment she became extremely unlikely to land any. Ideally, the seduction process should rev up desire in a man, not simulate the experience of a beetle being chased by an entomologist with a giant straight pin.

Like a lot of unpartnered types who go suddenly psycho, your friend probably seemed perfectly happy until that night she marched into some crowded bar and shouted, “I’m nothing without you!” (Who “you” is remains to be seen.) Now, maybe she never really was happy, or maybe she just hit that age where “single” becomes an adult form of cooties. In a recently published study, Bella M. DePaulo and Wendy L. Morris blame this bias on “The Cult of the Couple,” and puzzle at “the strange implication that people without a stable sexual relationship are wandering adrift with open wounds and shivering in their sleep.”

DePaulo and Morris aren’t anti-couple; they were just surprised when their data showed most people suspect single equals loser -- even single people. When they asked 950 undergrads to describe the characteristics of married and single people in general, married people were assumed to be “mature, stable, honest, happy, kind, and loving.” Singles got nailed with “immature, insecure, self-centered, unhappy, lonely, and ugly.” Of course, the truth is, sometimes two is the loneliest number. Is there really anything lonelier than feeling completely alone when you’re in relationship with somebody else?

It doesn’t help that award-winning social scientists keep making bold pronouncements about the transformative power of marriage, like E. Mavis Hetherington’s claim, “Happily married couples are healthier, happier, wealthier, and sexier than are singles.” Don’t be too quick to assume they also have bigger breasts, flatter abs, and are less likely to be abducted by aliens. The above quote from Hetherington’s recently published book was just one of many examples cited by DePaulo and Morris of couple-glorifying sloppy methodology and data analysis. DePaulo told me via e-mail, “I think that cultural notions about singles and marrieds are so pervasive, and so unquestioned, that even respected scholars do less than their best work on the topic.” DePaulo and Morris point out the rather obvious flaw in Hetherington’s claim: She compared only happily married people to all single people. Wow, imagine that: Happily marrieds are more satisfied with their lives than, say, suicidal singles.

If this “You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You” propaganda isn’t what’s sending your friend over the edge, it’s probably the alluring idea of “the one” as the one-stop-shopping solution to all your existential woes. Of course, expecting to get your every need met by one person makes about as much sense as going to the corner store for a quart of milk and being irate that they can’t also sell you a Persian rug, a baby ferret, and the Hope Diamond. What you can do is be “the one” -- that special person who gives your life meaning -- and then look for the other one: somebody who matches you pretty well on the stuff that matters, and well enough on the rest. In other words, there is no handsome prince. There might, however, be a moderately attractive auto parts store executive.

Meanwhile, even the “fabulously single” don’t have it all worked out. Here you are, probably content with your life and your circle of friends, and maybe even a friend or two with benefits, yet it never occurred to you to get out of a dead-end relationship? Yes, the one with your friend who confuses bringing out the animal in men with bringing out the trapped animal. You might miss the woman she once was, but until she becomes that woman again, you could follow the lead of the unhappily coupled and “take a little time off” -- at least until she better understands why people like you remain single. And no, it isn’t because your religion forbids dusting or you spend all your free time rearranging your collection of famous people’s toenail clippings.

My girlfriend of eight months is so attached to her cat that she takes it with her when she goes to the toilet. She also lets it sleep in the bed and drink out of the bathroom sink. She has cat knickknacky things everywhere, and worse, cat hair everywhere -- on the bed, on counters, on clothes and food. To me, cats are filthy animals that cover themselves with spit, lick their behinds, track used kitty litter all over, and shed hair and dander. I think about our future together, and wonder whether she'd give up a cat to be with me. You may think this sounds unreasonable, but I equate living with a cat to asking a woman to move into a house with a dirt floor.

There are people with cats, and then there are Cat People. People with cats shrug their shoulders when they hear somebody isn’t a fan of the species. Cat People march out to the garage, push aside all the kitty posters and spare toilet seat covers with ears and whiskers, and arm their nukes. Take this Cat Person, for example, who spotted an “I Hate Cats” entry on some guy’s blog, and came out clawing: “I bet your parents never hugged you and the’re divorced. You most likely have no friends and spend your time watching porne on the internet! . . . And by the way, I will pray that your trailor gets burned down and you suffer and die from smallpox!!!!!!!NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU!!!”

To be fair, not every Cat Person is so quick to launch their “I ‘heart’ my BooBoo kitty” warheads. Who knows, maybe your girlfriend would take the time to run spell-check first. Here she is, an adult woman who decorates like she got drunk and went on a spending binge at Hallmark, who seasons her food with cat hair, and who can’t pry herself away from little Poopsy to take a private trip to the john. And here you are, a guy who sees the housecat as the next best thing to an open petri dish of typhus. Yet, somehow, this doesn’t stop you from wondering whether you can have a future together. And maybe you can; most likely, the Hobbesian kind: “Nasty, brutish, and short.”

Hey, wait, don’t all relationships take compromise? Sure they do. But, making “Filthy Animal Seeks Good Home” signs isn’t a compromise; it’s a declaration of war. She clearly sees this cat as her furry, four-legged child. Ever let a mother know you find her child vile and ill-behaved, and only fit to live under the porch? Okay, maybe you were tempted once or twice, as we all are, but came to your senses. In this case, if you just weren’t keen on cats, or you like them, but have allergies, maybe you could stay together by living apart. But, as odious as you find cats, not to mention her relationship with her cat, you two are about as sensibly paired as a Buddhist and a gun nut, or a vegan who mutters “Murderer!” every time his partner takes a bite of steak.

Love has its limitations; among them, its failure to double as turbo Febreze, not only making persistent pet odors go away, but making persistent pets disappear with them. For future reference, while it’s important to figure out what you want in a woman, it’s kind and responsible to figure out what gives you the dry heaves. In other words, you aren’t wrong for being a cat-loathing germ freak, just for taking eight months to determine that the only way you two could live happily ever after is with the intervention of a taxidermist.

I’ve had two horrible, abusive marriages, and have been divorced for five years. When I wasn’t looking (of course), I met a woman I clicked with emotionally and intellectually. Our friendship started slowly, but recently elevated to hugging and kissing. I’m now panicking, thinking I’m not ready for a relationship since I’m unable to feel secure with a woman after being cheated on by my second wife. How can I learn to trust?

--Petrified

There are things that are beyond a person’s control, like when you’re sitting in an easy chair in your living room and you die in a plane crash. Or maybe you’re walking down the street, minding your own business, and a horrible, abusive marriage falls on you like the house from “The Wizard of Oz.” Twice.

Chances are, you put more thought into what you’re having for lunch than who you’re supposedly having for forever: “Did my steak have leg room? Did my lettuce have a happy childhood? Did my chicken have meaningful conversations and a chance to read the classics?” After you’re done with the important questions, there’s just enough time to ask, “Hi, I barely know you, but will you marry me?”

Of course, knowing somebody well is no guarantee. People change. They get more conservative, or less conservative, or convex in the places they used to be concave. But, beyond the handful who go barking mad at 29, most people don’t change a whole lot. In other words, it’s unlikely you married some sweet, gentle flower who woke up one morning a raging, plate-throwing psycho. If you never knew what hit you -- until you started picking the Wedgwood out of your left cornea -- it’s probably because you never really looked at what you were getting into. Even now, you write about your marriages like they just happened to you, and paint yourself as a victim -- very convenient, since “blaming the victim” is considered heresy on par with using the flag to clean the bathtub.

But often, the victim does bear some responsibility. Take me, for example: I used to live in a pretty isolated section of downtown New York City, just past a big UPS garage. I had a rule that I’d only take Greenwich Street home when the UPS guys were there loading and unloading. After moving to California, I came back to visit and lah-dee-dah wandered down Greenwich late one night -- followed, unbeknownst to me, by some creep who ran up behind me and helped himself to a big grope. I screamed and thrashed, I ran, I was fine. Did I tell myself I was a victim? No, I told myself I was a moron -- and resolved to never again meander around New York City with my street smarts dangling off some palm tree back home.

Your problem isn’t learning to trust, it’s learning that trust shouldn’t be thrown around like birdseed. Figure out what your standards are, then put time and effort into determining whether a particular person measures up. Don’t get sidetracked looking for the good in people, since you’re unlikely to get divorced because your partner is witty, attractive, and inventive in bed. Instead, look for the bad and the ugly, and decide whether you can live with them before you let a woman into your life. Don’t make excuses: “She’s great except that her last 12 relationships broke up after she cheated on the guys with their best friends. This time will be different.” Yeah, sure it will -- because no two so-called best friends will have sex with your girlfriend in exactly the same way.