I'm a 29-year-old guy with a "keep it casual" relationship history, but I can't stop thinking about this new girl at work. Beyond not wanting her to date anyone else, I don't want someone to hurt her or make her sad. No other woman has ever made me feel this way. How do I know whether this is lust or the beginnings of falling in love?

--Confused

It's easy to believe you're "in love" when you're really just in lust. To be fair, lust is a form of love...if you broaden the field to stuff like "I love, love, LOVE your boobs in that inappropriately tight sweater."

In other words, lust is animal attraction, so the "inner beauty" that's elemental to loving somebody is immaterial. I know this firsthand, having repeatedly been the target of interspecies sex predators, large and small. A giant male goat chased me across my friend's parents' farm, trying to mount me -- while my friends looked on laughing.

A previous perv was six inches high and green: a friend's lorikeet (a kind of parrot). He ran after me on his little bird feet all around the friend's apartment, squawking the oh-so-sensual pickup line, "Otto, bird! Otto, bird!" I bolted into the bathroom, slammed the door, and refused to come out till he was behind bars. #beaktoo

Complicating the detangling of "love or lust?" is another important question: "Love or infatuation?" Falling in love is not love. It's infatuation -- an intense, usually lust-fueled obsession with our idea of who a person is: a projection of our hopes and romantic fantasies that often has little relationship to who they really are. That said, the sheer strength and intoxicating nature of infatuation -- like being blind drunk on romantic possibility instead of Jim Beam -- often leads to premature feelings of "We're perfect for each other!"

People tend to believe the more they learn about a new person they're into, the more into them they'll be -- a la "to know them is to love them." However, psychologist Michael I. Norton finds that when we have the hots for someone we barely know, we're prone to read ambiguity -- foggy, partial information about them -- as signs the person is like us. These (perceived!) similarities amp up our "liking" for them -- at first.

However, as time goes by, we can't help but notice all the dissimilarities poking up, which leads us to like them less and less -- a la "To know them is to loathe them." In other words, rushing into a relationship of any permanence is the stuff dreams are made of -- if you've always dreamed of being financially and emotionally incinerated in a grotesquely ugly divorce.

"Buyer beware" in love is best exercised in two ways: The first is "buyer be seriously slow." Consider putting the person you're dating on secret probation for a year (or more). This will give you time to not just see the best in them but give it much-needed company: glimpses of the worst.

Second, explore whether your compatibility with a person is surface -- "I love sushi! She loves sushi!" -- or sustainably deep. The ideal tool for assessing this is the best definition of love I've ever read, and by "best," I mean the most practically useful. It's by Ayn Rand. (And no, I'm not one of the glassy-eyed worshippers of everything she ever said or wrote, but she nailed it on this.)

"Love is a response to values," writes Rand. "It is with a person's sense of life that one falls in love -- with that essential sum, that fundamental stand or way of facing existence, which is the essence of a personality. One falls in love with the embodiment of the values that formed a person's character, which are reflected in his widest goals or smallest gestures. ... It is one's own sense of life that acts as the selector," identifying one's own core values in the other person.

Using this "values model" to determine compatibility requires some preliminary work: figuring out your own values, meaning the principles you care most about -- the guiding standards for the sort of person you want to be. If you're in the "gotta get started on that" stage, recognizing what isn't love -- those love fakers, lust and infatuation -- should help you avoid sliding into the committed relationship nightmare zone.

Ultimately, love is nautical: It's both the ship that launched a thousand sappy cliches and, more vitally, a lifeboat. In lifeboat form, it gets romantic partners through the worst of times, major and, um, somewhat less major -- like when your bae spends your entire date night searching Hulu for a movie to watch. Love is dropping your phone in the goldfish bowl to keep yourself from whispering, "Hey, Siri, where's the legal line between murder and involuntary manslaughter?"

For pages and pages of "science-help" from me, buy my latest book, "Unf*ckology: A Field Guide to Living with Guts and Confidence." It lays out the PROCESS of transforming to live w/confidence.

At a dinner, a woman asked how my husband and I met. He says he spotted me in the campus dining hall, deliberately bumped me and spilled my drink on my tray, and used getting me a refill to ask me out. This never happened. (We met in class, and he asked me out.) What does it mean that he has such faulty recall about the entire origin of our marriage?

--Disturbed

There is such a thing as "total recall," and it's what automakers rush to do after they sell a car that is not only self-driving but self-destructing: dropping parts like breadcrumbs as it tools down the highway.

What total recall is not is a feature of the human mind -- despite the widely believed myth that memory is a form of mental videotape: faithfully preserving our experiences for playback. Ideal as this would be for spouses with prosecutorial tendencies, our minds are, in fact, hotbeds of fragmented, distorted, partial recall.

We create this mess ourselves, simply by remembering -- and remembering again. "Using one's memory shapes one's memory," explains psychologist Robert Bjork. Basically, the more we tell a story, the more we believe it -- along with all the embellishments (aka big fat lies) we added to funny it up and otherwise impress (so social situations feel less like reenactments of being picked last for dodgeball).

And when I say "we," I mean me. When I lived in Manhattan, I'd brag about my response to a street-corner flasher: "Looks like a penis -- only smaller." I'm now pretty sure this never happened. I did see an escaped trouser snake or, uh, five on the subway. (New Yorkers think of this as "Tuesday.") That was probably my sourdough starter for the cleverbrag I trotted out endlessly at parties -- till I was snidely informed that my "original" circa mid-'90s line appeared in the 1978 movie "Bloodbrothers."

Consider that your husband's memory might not be the only one that's been, um, redecorated. Also consider (see my cleverbrag above) that we tend to "remember" events in self-serving ways. Any guy can ask a girl out after class, but in your husband's version, he goes on a mini-quest to get a date with you. Not exactly the stuff Sir Lancelot was made of, but modern men must make do with the heroics available to them: "I won her love -- after a bloody battle with a cafeteria tray and a glass of 2% milk."

For pages and pages of "science-help" from me, buy my latest book, "Unf*ckology: A Field Guide to Living with Guts and Confidence." It lays out the PROCESS of transforming to live w/confidence.

I hang with friends about twice weekly and also like my alone time. The guy I'm seeing not only wants to be together constantly but seems to need that. He's upset and anxious on nights I'm not with him. The first time I said I couldn't get together, he was annoyed. He now complains I'm "dependent on" my friends, meaning unhealthily. He claims a great relationship is two people who are always together (a la "you complete me"). I don't want to hurt him, but I won't give up my friends or myself for a relationship, and I don't know how to tell him.

--Conflicted

Dating sites work very hard to be inclusive in the type-of-partner options they list -- "man seeking woman," "man seeking man," and even "man seeking genderbeige" -- yet they omit a checkbox for "man seeking hostage."

That appears to be the model for your man's ideal relationship (as an adult who gets "upset and anxious" on nights his boo's away). Though he paints his longing for nonstop togetherness as the height of romance, his "You complete me!" is not so much a romantic declaration as an accidental disclosure of extreme neediness. It also makes him a poor match for any woman whose relationship goals are best summed up as: togetherness, yes; conjoined, no.

As a woman, you're likely on the high end of the spectrum of a personality trait called "agreeableness." On a positive note, this plays out in being "kind, considerate, likable, cooperative, (and) helpful," reports psychologist William Graziano. On a less positive note, it often leads to prioritizing these lovely behaviors over one's own needs.

A personality trait is not a behavioral mandate. You can shift out of auto-"pleaser" mode by pre-planning to assert yourself -- "Here's what I need!" -- and then doing it, no matter how uncomfortable it feels at first. The more you do it, the more natural (and even rewarding!) it'll feel -- till your default position becomes standing up for yourself instead of rolling over for everybody else.

Guesstimate how much weekly togetherness and apartness works for you, and make it clear to men you date -- starting by informing your current guy that your social world will continue to extend beyond being his human binky. In short, the sort of relationship that works for you is one in which you're bonded but not zip-tied.

For pages and pages of "science-help" from me, buy my latest book, "Unf*ckology: A Field Guide to Living with Guts and Confidence." It lays out the PROCESS of transforming to live w/confidence.

I'm a divorced guy in my 40s using dating apps. I'm keenly aware of what I do and don't want in a woman and make it clear in my profile. For example, I write, "If you're in a weird co-dependent relationship with a five-pound dog," we are not a match. A friend looked at my profile and was all, "Man, you have to delete that." I see no problem with what I've written. Who's right?

--Constructive Honesty

Admittedly, when people advise women, "Find a man who's like a dog!" they mean like a big loyal-to-the-death black Lab, not a purse-sized poodledoodle that spends a quarter of its life getting foofed up at Monsieur Marcel, the doggie hairdresser.

Of course, because a woman has a tiny ridiculous dog doesn't mean she's rife with psychological shortcomings. Including that bit in your profile -- and especially as you worded it -- says a few things about you, none of them lady-magnetizing. And sure, you wrote, "IF you are..." (in some sort of unhealthy relationship with your micro dog). However, even women who are emotionally together (and maybe even dog-free) are likely to swipe left or knock your profile into the little trash can icon.

Most problematically, this remark and other similarly cutting ones in your profile suggest you're an angry guy: a big flashing skull-'n'-crossbones "STEER CLEAR!" for women. "Anger-prone individuals are volatile and frequently dangerous" -- to the point of violence, evolutionary social psychologist Andrew Galperin and his colleagues explain. Women, on average, are smaller, physically weaker, and thus more physically vulnerable than men, which is likely why they err on the side of overperceiving signs that a guy might be a Mr. Angry. In fact, per the Galperin team's research: "A single instance of angry behavior" in "new acquaintances" is enough to provoke this keepaway motive -- even when their anger seems justified by the situation at hand!

Your sneering about behavior being "weird" and "co-dependent" is another red flag -- suggesting you view life through puke-colored glasses and are quick to think the worst of total strangers. That's Bigotry 101: using one infobit about an individual to leap to all sorts of ugly assumptions about them. It's toxic, irrational, and unfair -- and, if it's your go-to thinking, perhaps something to work on changing, lest you pay an unintended price (both in an ugly-first view of others and in others seeing you as a person to block, delete, and/or avoid).

By the way, "co-dependent" is an insulting term that's in need of either retirement or scientific validation. It's generally understood to describe two individuals in a persistent dysfunctional dance. The "enabling" individual temporarily eases the suffering of the other person (or pet!) -- in ways that, in the long term, are harmful to both. "Co-dependence" was flung on the public by self-help authors -- without any scientific basis: no evidence for the long lists of its supposed symptoms. It's now promiscuously applied to shame people -- to the point where showing none of the supposed symptoms gets used as proof of one's co-dependence!

That said, you're wise to try to proactively shoo off women who are wrong for you, as it could keep you from wasting your time and theirs on the phone (or worse, on a happy hour date that flies by like a week of medieval torture). However, there's a way to tell the wrong women, "Yoohoo, move on!" without coming off scolding or demeaning (and in turn throwing out the babes with the bathwater).

Probably the best constructive yoohoo is subtle fact-stating, like mentioning you're an atheist to discourage interest from those on Team God. Similarly, in the "who am I?" portion on a dating app, a 40-something, Johnny Depp-alicious hottie of a guy posted, "Living a plant-based life," suggesting he doesn't just eat vegan; it's major in his identity. If, like me, you are committed to "steak-based living," you know to give a big sad pass to Mr. Pirates of the Cauliflower-ribbean.

It's tempting to try to escape the emotional toddlers by announcing you're seeking someone "psychologically healthy" or "emotionally solid." Probably pretty useless. Those who have an unhealthy relationship with their dog -- or their mom, crystal meth, or tennis -- are often the last to know or admit it.

Ultimately, you might simply accept that you'll likely end up on a date or two with women you'd do anything to avoid. Keep first dates casual -- like meeting for coffee for an hour -- and your disasters will at least be Hobbesian: nasty, brutish, and short. Finally, I must say -- while typing this with my tiny, "My Little Pony"-like Chinese crested curled up asleep in my lap: Five pounds of dog may elicit laughs -- till it's cleanup time and you need a single sheet of Kleenex instead of a backhoe.

For pages and pages of "science-help" from me, buy my latest book, "Unf*ckology: A Field Guide to Living with Guts and Confidence." It lays out the PROCESS of transforming to live w/confidence.

I thought I was happily married. Recently, I found a cherry Chapstick in my husband's coat pocket -- a kind he'd never buy. He claimed he randomly grabbed it at the drugstore checkout. Last week, he said he'd be visiting his mother at the nursing home, but I later learned he never showed. I asked him about it, and he said work ran over. Additionally, our sex life has picked up, and he's been extra thoughtful lately. Doesn't all of this, put together, scream that he's cheating? How do I confront him?

--Nightmares

You don't expect marrying the man of your dreams to turn your actual dream content into all-night notifications of impending disaster: dozens of inch-high coal miners in tiny hardhats and goggles scaling you and repeatedly jabbing you with cupcake toothpicks topped with little red flags.

Are you right to pile these infobits into the verdict your husband's cheating? Maybe -- but maybe not. Evolutionary psychologist Martie Haselton explains that we evolved to be protectively wrong: to err on the safe side, meaning make the least evolutionarily costly error. Suspecting cheating where none actually exists is less genetically costly than shrugging off signs that seem to point to it -- and then possibly losing your man and/or having him funnel his resources away from your kids to those he'd make with some hussypants he's seeing on the side.

Confronting your husband -- accusing him of cheating -- is a risky tactic. If he is cheating, he's likely to deny it. If he isn't, your accusation could destroy your relationship. A possibly less risky tactic is evoking his empathy: telling him that, collectively, these infobits triggered fears of losing him. The subject becomes your seeking reassurance (which, P.S., may or may not be truth-backed). If he has been straying, he might be inspired to reevaluate and stop. Might.

Over the next few months, observe your husband's behavior -- including that which suggests he loves you and is faithful. Your observations are likely to be inconclusive (compared with finding him in bed with somebody), but if you amass enough information over time, it should begin to point you to some sort of understanding.

I personally make peace with the freakouts of life that way; for example, a new mole that (apologies to Judy Blume) seemed to scream: "Are You There, Alkon? It's Me, Malignant Melanoma." One dermatologist visit later: "Hello, drama queen. I'd like to introduce you to your spider bite."

For pages and pages of "science-help" from me, buy my latest book, "Unf*ckology: A Field Guide to Living with Guts and Confidence." It lays out the PROCESS of transforming to live w/confidence.

Do men even read online dating profiles? Mine says I'm a "sober divorced writer." Inevitably, guys message me: "What do you do? Ever been married? Wanna go for a drink?" Um, hello? I'm flattered I apparently get picked on looks alone, but even men who aren't into hookups do this.

--Mystified

There's a case to be made for a guy being a rushed or generally careless reader and sliding right past "sober divorced writer." However, men are likely to blow past an even more standout description, such as: "I enjoy fine dining, walks on the beach, and dismembering my date and feeding bits of him to the squirrels."

Though men seem more likely to hit on hot women on their pictures alone, they probably do this even when women are, shall we say, lukewarm or even room temperature. Because birth control used to be "Cross your legs, honey!" women evolved to be "the choosier sex," wary about getting it on with a man until they vet him for his willingness and ability to "provide" for any resulting kids. Because men don't get pregnant, it's evolutionarily optimal for them -- best for passing on Ye Old Genes -- to have vastly lower standards. (Vastly. Like: "So...she has a pulse?")

This sex difference makes a strong showing on dating apps. Computational social scientist Taha Yasseri, with three students, analyzed piles of data from online dating studies. "Men are much less selective in who they communicate with," they report. In fact, it's "optimal for men to use the 'shotgun method'": blasting out "likes" like buckshot from some backwoods Cletus' hunting rifle. The strategy is not finding a really great match (true love with a woman much like them -- or a man if they're gay) but messaging "a large number of people, irrespective of their potentially low fit" and hoping some of them bite.

Basically, many men on dating apps are like 2-year-olds. They only look at the pictures. Take it super slowly with any guy you meet via app, meaning keep him on secret probation until you see ample evidence you might be well-matched (and that "Conor" is not long for "Con"). If you're awakened one lazy Saturday morning by the man in your bed, the part of your body he's most interested in should not be your thumb -- which he got a little clumsy with while trying to unlock your banking app.

For pages and pages of "science-help" from me, buy my latest book, "Unf*ckology: A Field Guide to Living with Guts and Confidence." It lays out the PROCESS of transforming to live w/confidence.