I have a nickname amongst my close family and friends, one that I am not particularly proud of. I am “The Expiration Dater” and if that sounds like some kind of weird superhero to you, then you haven’t been saddled with the moniker since high school.

You see, I date… a lot. And up until very recently, I hadn’t found anyone I felt I could settle down and just breathe with. This resulted in me, changing boyfriends like I changed socks. This also resulted in me, being mocked by my nearest and dearest. To the point where my own grandmother, at the conclusion of every phone call, would ask, “Are you seeing someone new?” And then, to my inevitable “Yes,” came The Question. “Have you told him about his expiration date yet?” Believe you me, hearing your 70-year-old grandmother caught in a giggle fit at the expense of your love life is not the best feeling. (By the way, I’ll remember that when I’m picking your retirement home, Grandma. No group outings to Wal-Mart for you!)

In my personal comi-drama, The Itch sets in at about two weeks. And if it doesn’t set in at two weeks, it will make an appearance at two months. If not then, then my paramour is golden until month six. I have no idea what The Itch looks like beyond that, as it has never happened. I cut them loose at that point.

I never set out to be a serial dater. It’s not as though I consciously try to reevaluate my relationships in such a timely fashion – I don’t. I just follow my pattern fairly consistently. So I trudge on, neither apologizing for, nor glorifying my willful dating ways.

But I think about The Itch a lot. (Every time I talk to Grandma, in fact.) And I’ve come to some conclusions. Want to hear them?

The Itch is inevitable – there will come a point in every relationship where the blinders fall away and you are left wondering, “Ok, what next?” or “Is this all there is?” Some Itches are just minor irritations. Some fall into the “Good God in heaven, I think my brain is melting, I’m obsessing about this so much!” category. And there are many kinds of Itches. Some are productive. Some are not. And some have been outlined below…

The “Seven-Year” Itch – We’ve all heard about this one. (Thanks, Marilyn Monroe!) This is the one where you head-check your relationship and generally find it wanting… or you just need an injection of excitement. Whether you experience it at week two, the newly popular two and a half year mark (because we Millenials, we’re just that much quicker on the draw. We also came up with the quarter-life crisis) or year seven, well, you’re just sick of the same ol’ schtuff and you’re thinking like The Clash. As in, should I stay or should I go?

The Cure: Make a flippin’ decision. Is the love you have worth the stagnation you’ve found? Can you handle another seven years of him sounding like a bull seal when he blows his nose in the morning? Or is it time to move on? A word of caution, though – don’t always jump to the dump. You risk losing something great. And gaining a pile of Grandma-laughs and terrible nicknames.

The “We’re Still Here?” Itch – You’ve been dating for a while. Or you’ve been engaged for what seems like FOREVER. Or you’re married and want to start breeding. Whatever your particular circumstances, you want to move forward. Bad. To the point where you would give your right arm for him to tell you he loves you/set the date/knock you up. You can learn to use your left hand, right? That’s the hand he puts the ring on.

The Cure: Whack him over the head and drag him to a Justice of the Peace. Pay off your witnesses. Or you could try having a conversation (sans ultimatums, ‘cause that’s just wrong). Whichever is easier – and won’t land you in prison.

The “Need Some Strange” Itch – You love your SO, but the sex has gotten routine and that guy you work with is yummy. And so is the pizza guy. Not to mention Mr. Herbert, your fifth-grade teacher. That lazy eye/dandruff combo was kinda endearing. You don’t want to leave your man, but you certainly don’t want to rule out sex with anyone else, either.

The Cure: Play dress up. One night of him as a cop and you as the penitent robber may be enough to satisfy your need for bedular newness.

The “Cabin Fever” Itch – You need to blow off some steam. You need to be single again. (But just for a night) You need to wake up the next morning with a hangover of epic proportions and no recollection of how that tiger got in your bathroom. (Yup, I love me some Judd Apatow) You need to get out and be Marlo Thomas, all “Free To Be You And Me.” But just you. Not him.

The Cure: Take a night for you. Lose the cellphone. Grab some girlfriends, some drinks and flirt with every man who crosses your path. But don’t touch. That’s not what tonight is for. If you have any questions, see The “Need Some Strange” Itch, above.

The Literal Itch: You’re feeling some discomfort south of the border. Physically, that is.

The Cure: Go to your doc. Get some cream or some antibiotics. Apply as needed.