Spring Fever

18 Mar

I’ve learned about many kinds of fevers. Scarlet. Typhoid. Hypothermia. Cabin. They pop up in biology books, history books and “Muppet Treasure Island,” so over the course of my life thus far,I’ve become well acquainted with the ways in which one can suffer. However, there is one fever that I’m still trying to understand. It doesn’t involve thermometers, barf bags or tight quarters. No, no, this fever involves flowers, sunshine and a resurgence of giddiness. We’re not just talking smiling-from-ear-to-ear-even-while-taking-out-the-garbage giddiness; we’re the talking madly, illogically, completely obsessed with happy thoughts kind. There’s no need for a dash of Tinkerbell’s fairy dust to make you fly. That part is all a scam. It’s the happy thoughts, the fluffy, mushy, happy thoughts that get you afloatin’ in the air.

I’ve seen it myself.

Pesach time was always the time for the local singles to showcase their soon-to-be fiancees around the community. Okay, okay so they weren’t trying to show off…my friends and I would gaze curiously out the dining-room windows waiting to see who would be taking a very specific kind of yom tov walk. We were  delightfully intrigued by this far off activity called dating. Sure, we saw plenty of male/female socializing in high school, but this kind was different. This kind was allowed, nay, it was applauded. Back in the day, we did have more to talk about than dating. We talked about lots of stuff that weren’t dating, but at this time of year, it could not be helped. Love is in the air, and even if you didn’t have any desire to dabble in the pond of lovey-doviness, once spring came around, you can’t help but feel the urge to kick your shoes off and jump right in.

Of course, being such good aidel maidels, my friends and I never did such a thing. We fought it with the strongest medicine we had available–cynicism. We didn’t speak badly of specific people, rather, we focused on the absurdity of love:

Why is it that the first thing a seminary girl does once she’s returned from Israel is hunt for a shidduch? I mean c’mon, don’t they have lives? That’s all that matters once you’re in college? I am so, so not looking forward to that.

But following our wry comments would be the The Truth. Whether you liked it or not, whether you agreed with it or not, it was The Truth:

…The only thing worse than starting this dating drama is being the last one of your friends to get married. I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to be one of the last ones from our class.

And that was the end of our dating rant. We would then continue peering out the window, noshing on semi-edible macaroons and watched the couples stroll; hazily dreaming of the day when it would be our turns to succumb to Spring Fever.


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