What is it about “spring fever?” Why do we go even more bonkers about sex at this time of year? The answer, of course, is to be found in evolution. Tens of thousands of years ago (when MTV played music videos instead of cartoons, games shows and “reality” shit) men and women spent the winter in caves. If you hadn’t found a mate yet, spring was your time to go out and find some action. In those days, “sex” meant getting some babies started, not slamming down countless Long Island Iced Teas and bringing home something that looks (the next morning anyway) like it just emerged from a petri dish.

But the imprint is still there. The weather gets warm and people think about all the fun they didn’t have over the winter. Or, as is

the case with many of us, by April we’ve finally rebounded from being dumped just before or during the holidays. This heady blend of optimism and residual bitterness makes for a powerful incentive.

If you were to run counter to spring fever, what would you be doing? Well, you’d get to know someone before hopping into the sack. A solid friendship would be built, with all the trust, respect and selflessness that this implies. You build this wonderful friendship, then the relationship moves into the sexual realm. I announced proudly to friends last year that I was going to try this, saying, “Wouldn’t that be great? Imagine having sex with your best friend!” At this point, everyonedoubled over, as if their appendix had burst,yelling, “Eeeyew! Stop, Stop! Eeeyew!” Evidently the thought of having sex withsomeone you actually respect and admire makes some people nauseous.

Back in the days when the most serious consequence of casual sex was crabs, a group of friends and I had an informal association known as FWF (“Friends Who Fuck”). This was an extremely useful outfit, the likes of which should be revived in some slightly modified form for the Nineties. A group of men and women, who liked the same music and went to the same bars, would go out cruising all night; whoever came up with zip went home with another group member, and some good ol’ consolation sex was had.

This kind of thing had a number of advantages. For one, group members could keep any individual from making the kind of really stupid choices people tend to make when on their own. Not only that, but since every member of the group knew that sex was gonna happen that night one way or another, each of us exuded a self-confidence and composure that naturally attracted persons who wouldn’t come near a desperate loser.

If any pair did end up in bed later, it was two friends playing together, and because of the friendship, there were none of the games we tend to run on people we “really care about.” Sex partners were treated like we would treat a good friend, because they were.

So, if you’re a bottled-up hormonal time-bomb this time of year, think about forming a FWF chapter of your own. Around November you’ll see people drowning their sorrows over relationships that began with spring fever and ended when six months of reality kicked in, and be able to say to yourselves, “There but for the grace of FWF go I.”

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