“The over-the-topness, the crazy planning and super fancy dates and blowing expectations out of the water, that’s not real life”

IT really was nice to be back home. Dassi looked around the table, full of the people she loved most in the world, nostalgia and happiness coloring her lenses rosy. She rarely saw Shimshi and Miri these days, ever since her brother had moved to North Miami Beach. And even though her sister Sara and her husband, Dov, lived close by, she still barely saw them, especially since Sara’s work schedule was so busy. She wondered briefly what next year’s Sedarim would look like. Would she be back here, only with a diamond winking on her finger and no fear of three-day-yuntiff hair?

“Dass, pass the veal,” said Shimshi, pulling her out of her reverie. “So are you bored with our regular meals now?” he asked facetiously, as only an older brother could. “I feel like we should have gotten you some caviar so you’d feel comfortable, no?”

“Oh, please, Shimshi, lay off,” said Sara. “I seem to recall you mentioning that you got that suit custom-made, didn’t you? Don’t be such a hypocrite.” Dassi noticed Dov smothering a smile at his wife’s comeback. Classic.

Dassi rolled her eyes. The discomfort she felt in the pit of her stomach when the conversation turned to her dating life made her doubt her nonchalance. But big brothers were still brothers; it was always best to pretend their pokes didn’t affect you.

“I’m impressed you held off until first day lunch, Shim. Come on, say what you wanna say so we can get this over with.”

Dassi’s mother protested feebly, something about couldn’t she just enjoy a peaceful yuntiff with her kids.

Shimshi laughed. “We’re not arguing! I just think it’s funny that Dassi used to say on loop that everyone knows nerds make the best husbands, and here she is, deep in a parshah with a guy who, from what we hear, wrote the book on cool. Or thinks he did, anyway.”