At this point, I’d had mononucleosis for two weeks and had been dating my boyfriend for about two months. Before my diagnosis, we were still in the honeymoon stage—always spending time together, gushing over how great the other was, blah blah blah. And then I got a sore throat, which quickly turned into coma-like naps and me sounding like a deaf muppet whenever I tried to speak. As I struggled to make it through my finals without falling asleep, he dutifully drove me to get lung x-rays and brought me soup or ice cream (the only things I could swallow) almost every night.

It was bad enough that I could barely stand up long enough in the shower to shave my legs, but, worse of all, we couldn’t even kiss, something we’d been pretty good about doing every day since we’d started dating. And when I fainted, I half expected him (as any sensible person would do) to cut his losses and stop hanging out with my ridiculously sick self. The self that had blow-dried my hair and spent 40 minutes choosing an outfit for our first date would have been horrified by my makeup-less appearance and constant need to blow my nose.

When the going gets tough, how are we supposed to react? If your relationship is still in its budding stage, the first rough patch is terrifying. You don’t want to seem like a burden, and you’re scared of losing the idealized version of yourself that you’ve cultivated for others to see. No one wants to be seen un-showered and half-articulate, especially by a person one is attracted to. It is terrifying to let someone get that close; no one wants to fall off that pedestal.

As scary as it is though, these inglorious moments are perhaps the most important and defining parts of your relationship. Why? Because if that person is still around at the end of the day, holding a box of Kleenex and a can of chicken noodle soup, it means that they’re in it for more than the put-together you that the rest of the world sees. It means that they’re cool with the totally unglamorous, unembellished and real you.

When I finally came around to full consciousness, my mildly terrified boyfriend spent the rest of the day making sure I drank absurd amounts of water and didn’t get out of bed. And while the fainting incident, as well as my whole mono experience, has now turned into something we joke about, there is a certain comfort behind the laughter in knowing that he was there to catch me. Because when the going gets tough, the tough don’t always get going—sometimes the best ones actually stick around.

“Do you really mean to say,” he asked the class, “that none of you have ever once been in a relationship where you’ve woken up one morning and thought to yourself, ‘What the hell am I doing?’”

At first, some people raised their hands to disagree, but after they thought for a minute, all lowered their arms. As they ran through their own pasts, I thought of my relationships and my friends’ relationships. There were couples who got more of a kick out of making loud sex noises to wake up their residential advisor than actually having sex. There were couples who had been dating for years and refused to say “I love you,” whereas others had been dating for only a few weeks and were already professing their deepest feelings. And then there are all those couples who just don’t make sense, and their friends are always wondering why they’re together. In each of these pairings, I remembered my friends’ panicked revelations, generally after a discussion with their parents or close friends—“What the hell am I doing?”

From pop culture to seeing random couples on the street, we see and hear about normalcy all the time—what our relationships should be, the proper times and ways to express our feelings, what is acceptable for couples to do and not do with one another. These visions of normalcy make us look at our own relationships and realize just how freaky and strange the people we love are—and that we must be crazy to be dating them.

These doubts can cause some major panic: Some people find themselves thinking, “How can I date someone who spends half an hour a day banging on walls and complaining? That’s so immature. Can I really be with someone like that in the future?” And either “It’s been two months and he hasn’t said ‘I love you,’ so he obviously doesn’t care about me,” or “She said, ‘I love you,’ after two months; I’m getting the hell out of here.” But when this panic sets in, the most important thing to do is ask yourself: Who cares?

I’m not saying that you shouldn’t care if something isn’t within the usual “guidelines” of relationships. If something is genuinely disturbing to you, then the issue is something you need to address. But if it’s your parents who think your girlfriend is immature, or your friends who say your boyfriend should be saying the L-word at this point, that’s their concern, not yours.

How can you gauge who’s right? By your happiness! If you’re not happy, then the weirdness is a problem. But if you can enjoy letting your freak flag fly with that person, does it really matter if outsiders judge you?

While you consider your answer to that, I’m going to spend a romantic evening with my boyfriend, speaking in Russian accents and watching Muppet YouTube videos—because, despite some of your raised eyebrows, that’s my idea of a perfect evening.

But what happens in real life? What happens when saying those three words isn’t the end of something, but the beginning of something—of a real, vulnerable relationship?

What happens is panic.

This phenomenon is everywhere. In a hit show about meeting mothers, a ballsy television reporter runs up to her boyfriend to tell him how she feels, and instead of saying, “I love you,” he exclaims, “Falafel!”

Over Christmas break, my best friend, a beautiful, confident Red Sox fan with a mouth like a trucker, told me about the first time she said those fatal words to her boyfriend: She blurted it out by accident in the middle of a fight, and then ran out of the room, blushing, before he could process what had just happened.

What is it about saying the L-word that makes people so crazy? And why is it such a big deal when we do or don’t say it?

I can’t tell you exactly who is to blame for it. Authors with a romantic streak, overly sentimental songwriters and even our own parents and friends have loaded that one word with so much meaning that it is absolutely terrifying. If you’ve never said it before, it’s scary, because you don’t know how you’re “supposed to feel,” and if you’ve said it before, it’s overwhelming, because it makes you question whether getting this serious is worth the potential heartbreak.

What’s really a shame is that all the hype about saying it has ruined it for the rest of us—all of us normal folk who know what it’s like to care about somebody to the extent that you’ll kiss them even if they have mono, or bring them coffee in the library at 6 a.m. on the day that their thesis is due. All the craziness surrounding it forces us to attempt to quantify our feelings.

While you try to figure that emotional mess out, you don’t have to say, “I love you.” With the weight that it carries, it’s best to wait until you literally cannot hold it in any longer. And it brings with it a kind of vulnerability that can be almost painful to open yourself up to. I won’t deny it. But if that person were to be gone tomorrow, what would be worse: them being gone, or them being gone and not knowing how much you care about them?

If the amount that you care about them is enough to move your relationship from “I really like you” to “I love you,” there’s nothing better than hearing that person say the same thing back to you.

In the meantime, though, you don’t need to give in to the pressure. So just relax. Despite what people may tell you, it’s OK to be completely happy and at peace with the hand that’s rubbing your back at 2 a.m. as you’re trying to finish your next article.

After I got her to calm down a bit, I got the full story. Anna’s boyfriend of two months had asked her to come skiing with his family over Christmas—but she hadn’t been the only one invited. Brian’s roommate, Kyle (the one who crashed their movie dates, sat between them when they went to bars and never paid for the food he “shared’ with them) had been invited as well. “All I wanted was a little peace and quiet when I meet his parents,” Anna moaned. “Why does Kyle have to be there?”

We all have good friends: the people who have been with us through thick and thin, who were our wingmen (or women) when we were single, and who stayed up for all the late nights with a pint (of beer or Ben & Jerry’s). When we get into relationships, friendships become a delicate balancing act—for every X number of hours we spend with our boyfriend/girlfriend, we need to spend Y hours with our friends. One way to balance friends and significant others is to bring the two together, maybe by going on a group trip to the bar or a double date out to dinner. This kind of compromise helps blend these two otherwise unrelated worlds.

But what if one party doesn’t understand that there needs to be a balance? What if there is one weight that continually tips the scale and just won’t take the hint that “We’re going to watch a movie” means “Get out so we can have some alone time”? And what if the person you’re dating is too nice or too oblivious to say no?

It’s one of the more frustrating problems one faces in a relationship because it requires some of the most understanding. It’s easy to hate that friend who just doesn’t get it, but consider what that friend has recently gone through. While he or she makes bad jokes or insists on joining in on your evening activities, your friend is really just mourning the loss of a wingman, a confidante, a best friend.

This isn’t to say that you need to spend every waking moment with a third wheel. If you respect what he or she is going through, then your friend needs to respect your relationship. It’s OK to be upset about the constant third party, and it’s important to be honest with your partner. After Anna stopped wanting to punch her boyfriend, she was able to admit that she was nervous about meeting his parents, and convinced him that Kyle would have a fun Christmas at home with his own family. Sure, Kyle crashed one of their dinner dates during finals week instead, but it was a compromise she was willing to make.

To make life easier, try setting up your partner’s annoying friend with a friend of yours. Then the annoying friend (in this case, Kyle) is less likely to crash your movie nights, because he has his own lover to tend to and his own movies to watch.

For those of you who are unaware of what the Turkey Drop is (freshmen, listen up!), here’s the basic formula: Take two students in a relationship who have been going out for approximately three months now, assuming they began dating at the start of the semester. Well, three months is often long enough for at least one party to get tired and start thinking that maybe there are better options out there. Then, said party (your significant other) goes home for his or her first vacation of the year, hooks up and, before you know it, you’re Turkey Dropped.

As funny as it all sounds, take it from a once-dropped turkey—the Turkey Drop is no fun. It’s right before finals and wildly frustrating after trying to make something work for so long. It’s enough to put a damper on the end of anyone’s semester. But there are some tricks to getting over this terrible holiday backlash.

Get “basted.” Not necessarily the best solution, but sometimes a good drink with a few friends can make the situation seem a little bit less painful—and often a lot funnier. Or you’ll get that chance you’ve been waiting for to cry until your tear ducts dry out.

Make it a marathon. My freshman roommate took care of me from the moment I got back to the dorm until our taxi to the airport before winter break. How? By renting all six seasons of “Sex and the City,” which we had worked our way through by our last final. The show can vary, as long as there’s plenty of laughter and perhaps a cynical romantic plotline. Doing a pseudo-sappy show marathon with friends is the equivalent of chicken noodle soup for the mending heart.

Milk it. When else do you have an excuse to guilt your friends into going out to eat or seeing a movie when they have a stack of homework to do? You only get to play the breakup card for a short period of time—so use it! Nothing is out of the question, from ice cream-eating contests to singing along to “Moulin Rouge” (that applies to guy friends as well as girls).

Do everything you’ve always wanted to do. That may be a little broad, but it doesn’t matter. That haircut you always thought about? Get it! A new workout you wanted to start? Grab a friend, and hit the gym. With your newfound time, there’s so much more that you can do with your life. And the more you get out there, the more likely you are to find what you love—whether it be a new hobby or a new special someone.

Breaking up is always hard to do; no one is denying that. But if you’re able to put a positive spin on it, then you’ll have a better holiday season—and even have a little fun while you’re at it.

So the most important thing to keep in mind this break? Keep it all in perspective. There’s so much more to Thanksgiving dinner than just the turkey. Maybe you’re more of a mashed potatoes guy or gal anyway—and now you’ve got the opportunity to try all the other dishes.

I forget when exactly my boyfriend told me that his parents were visiting, but I do remember that we had only been dating for about a month, and although I responded enthusiastically, I was practically lacing up my running shoes (Julia Roberts-style). I prayed that his next sentence would be, “So I’m sorry if I’m not around a lot,” but instead I got what I should have expected: “Want to come out to dinner with us on Friday?” If his arm hadn’t been around my waist, I probably would have been off the couch before he finished the question. But since I was captive, I grinned and said, “Sure!”

When I told my roommate, she was ecstatic. She asked me why I was so nervous, and I exclaimed, “Because they’re his parents!”

We’ve seen it all—there are parents who keep you at arms length (because, after all, you are stealing their child away from them), and others who love you instantly and send you Facebook messages and texts. But no matter what experiences we’ve had or witnessed with our significant others’ parents, we have an inherent fear of meeting the people who raised our boyfriend or girlfriend. Why has everyone decided that “meeting the parents” is such a major event—it’s just being introduced to some new people, right?

Wrong.

Yes, our parents are those obnoxious characters who call us to ask about grades and bug us to book our flights home for Thanksgiving. But odds are that they have spent more time with you than any other person in the world. They know you better, they have dirt on you (including naked baby pictures) and they understand how you work, as much as you may hate to admit it. When a person is that big of a deal in your life, introducing the person whom you are seeing to them is a way of saying, “You are important enough to meet this person who made me who I am. You matter.” And deep down, all parties involved know this.

So maybe the fear isn’t just of meeting the parents. It’s the fear that comes along with realizing how much someone cares about you. Your boyfriend or girlfriend is willing to deal with that weekly phone call that will now incorporate the question, “So how are you and [your name here] doing?” Someone bringing you into their lives in such an intimate way, beyond the realm of dorm rooms and dates, means that they’re in it for the long haul.

As far as my “meeting the parents” episode, it went amazingly well; my boyfriend’s parents were welcoming, kind and tons of fun; we even went out again the next night. And honestly, things have only gotten better since then.

We’ll see how he does next weekend—did I mention my parents are coming in on Friday?

Everyone has something different; I’ve heard of everything from lockets and mix CDs to a “Walter the Farting Dog” book and Canadian boxers. Personally, my romantic memoirs consist of calendar tear-offs and a stack of sweatshirts and cross-country T-shirts that could clothe a small village. (I should really look into that Goodwill donation.)

The way that we react to these findings can vary, but while keeping sweatshirts and good books may be functional, the general destination of these objects tends to be the same place as the relationships that they came from—in the trash. But it’s not that easy. Like it or not, every relationship that we get into has an impact on us. You can throw away that mix CD, but the next time you hear that song, no matter how many years later or how many miles away you are, it will be just like you are back on that date when he or she played it for you the first time.

My most recent reminder of this was when I went to Six Flags with a group of friends—an innocent trip, no special day. After too much pizza and roller coaster riding, we decided to go on a relaxing ride—“Hey, how about that one?” As I turned to see what my friend was pointing to, I immediately felt my heart speed up. While I agreeably climbed up on one of the wooden horses of the antique merry-go-round, I couldn’t help the heart-wrenching feeling it evoked in me. I couldn’t stop thinking that any minute, my ex would appear from behind me and jump onto the seat next to me, giving the same smile he gave me on our first date at the fair.

While most of my friends clowned around on their dancing ponies, I sat on my white horse and reminisced about how much fun we’d had. But then I smiled. Yes, it’s been ages since I’ve spoken to my high school boyfriend, and things didn’t end all that well. But in spite of that, it’s been long enough for me to realize that I wouldn’t trade what we had for anything—it was a great first love. Walking toward the exit, I was able to look back without feeling any real pain, just a warmth for what used to be.

So as far as those souvenirs are concerned, keep them with you; they’re important because every experience is worth something. Just don’t let them clutter up the room. Make sure you have enough space for that new hoodie on the hanger, for that new picture frame on your desk. In the end, it will all serve as a miniature museum of the fun you’ve had.

And come on, who doesn’t need a broken-in sweatshirt to study in or some T-shirts for the gym?

While this statement alone would have been surprising enough, when it was seconded and then thirded by the other members of my table, I nearly choked.

WHAT?

Let’s not lie to ourselves—each and every one of us who has ever had to deal with a broken heart has certainly thought about this. We all secretly believe that we are “the one that got away,” and deep down, that ex still wants us. At least, this is what we hope in between pints of Ben & Jerry’s and watching “The Notebook” and John Cusack movies until the DVD player burns out. Heartache makes us border on insanity.

But once you’ve been apart from that person for a while, and everything has had a little time to heal, we have to ask ourselves: is ex territory something that we should return to? Or should we keep looking for greener pastures?

When I mentioned to my mother what was going on with my friends, she immediately screeched, “You better not be thinking of getting back together with that jerk!” And then she proceeded to point out all of the reasons why I shouldn’t get back with my most recent ex: He hurt me, he wasn’t totally honest, and he didn’t fit in with my family.

She gave me perfectly legitimate and wonderful reasons why I should never even speak to him again. And, chances are, your friends or parents could probably provide you with a similar laundry list explaining why your ex should stay your ex.

But when I asked my friends what had inspired their blasts from the past, I received equally convincing arguments. “It’s comfortable.” “He knows me so well.” “He does that thing that I really like where he…”

Is it really so wrong for us to want to return to the familiar? Sometimes it just feels so good to fall into arms that we have already been in, to kiss someone who already knows exactly how we like to be kissed. There is something about having that history that just makes everything a little bit more intimate. And the fact that it’s not supposed to be happening makes it a whole lot hotter.

I’m not saying you should go booty call your most recent ex, but I do think that returning to familiar ground isn’t always a bad thing—after all, we are encouraged to recycle. And maybe there’s something there that you overlooked the first time. My only advice, dear readers, is go into it with your guard up—I’ve heard it hurts twice as much the second time around.