Wedding fever is one of the scariest diseases I have ever seen.

In the words of Jessica Valenti—“Wedding fever is one of the scariest diseases I have ever seen.”—there lies a sharp critique of obsession disguised as tradition. She speaks of wedding fever not as a simple joy or celebration, but as an affliction, a madness that seizes individuals and societies alike. This fever reduces the sacred covenant of love into a frenzy of spectacle, status, and consumption, where meaning is eclipsed by performance.

The ancients, too, warned against such contagions of the spirit. In Greece, Euripides wrote of Bacchic frenzies, where worshippers lost themselves to hysteria, surrendering reason to a collective madness. Valenti’s metaphor mirrors this: when the desire for the wedding overwhelms the reality of marriage, when garlands, gowns, and grandeur matter more than fidelity and partnership, then the fever corrupts what was once sacred.

Her words carry also the force of social warning. For wedding fever is not merely personal—it is a cultural epidemic, driven by industries that profit from anxiety and comparison. Just as Rome’s emperors distracted the people with bread and circuses, modern society distracts with bridal magazines, extravagant ceremonies, and the false promise that worth is measured by the scale of celebration. This is why Valenti calls it a disease: it spreads by sight and imitation, consuming both wealth and wisdom.

History itself bears witness. The Sun King, Louis XIV, made his court a theater of lavish weddings and festivals, bankrupting nobles who competed for his favor. The fever of grandeur consumed reason, and beneath the glitter, discontent brewed until revolution came. Thus, even mighty empires have been shaken by the sickness of spectacle, when the appearance of joy outweighed its substance.

Therefore, let us heed this lesson: love is not measured by the fever of the day, but by the endurance of a lifetime. Guard yourself against the disease of appearances, for it will drain your spirit and leave you empty. True marriage is not a performance but a covenant, not a fever but a flame, steady and enduring. In Valenti’s warning we hear an ancient truth: resist the madness of the crowd, and seek instead the quiet strength of what is real.