Chelsea Fagan

This weekend, when one of your friends texts you with promises of glory, of true love, and the possibility of dollar domestics — you say no. You say no, you gather up the scraps of your dignity, and you order a pizza.

So, though they may be a bit cumbersome, I propose a few new terms that more succinctly get to the heart of the matter. This, my friends, is true love.

If you are the kind of man who, on his way out for a night on the town or an afternoon with friends, decides to finish his otherwise respectable outfit of decent jeans and a well-cut shirt with a pair of scuffed New Balances, ugh.

We all know that no one is more of a model for your own future knight-in-shining-armor than a good, old-fashioned Disney Prince.

There are bridges I have burned out of necessity. Yours was simply abandoned, left untended for years until weeds grew through it and the railing fell apart and it became something you might take a black-and-white picture of, but you could never cross again.

Here, a primer for when your future children want to know what the hell you were doing with your boxy, multicolored electronics.

I’m pretty convinced now that everything in the fashion world has been “done,” and now the designers are just blindfolding themselves and throwing darts at a chart with different clothing items on it.

Perhaps in a childish, roller-coaster-thrill kind of way we like people who don’t treat us very well, but when we think about who is really worth our time and our love, it is not that kind of person. At least, it shouldn’t be.