Last night I met a fraternity.
Alpha. Delta. Kappa something.
Greek letter. Whatever.
Let’s just call the fraternity that from now on– whatever.
The first guy I met from whatever asked me if I came to the bar alone because I looked “kind of stranded.”
What I was thinking: Is that just how you envisioned me when you drugged my drink?
What I said: No. My friends are over there (imagine me pointing somewhere in the distance).
THEN, as if mocking me, was all like…”So you’re just an independent women then?”
What I wanted to say: Does your chest hurt?
What he would have said if I had said what I wanted to say: Why?
What I wanted to say next: Because I’ve stabbed you about 100 times in my mind!
While I resisted the urge to rap that Webbie song about being independent, I got all “girl power mad” in my mind. That’s a thing by the way. Getting all “girl power mad.”
I knew in my heart that this entitled motherfucker would never vote a Hilary for president…or a Heather, Jenny, Sarah, Jessica or any other slut you can think of — and I mean slut in the best way possible.
But I’ve been doing this new thing where when things make me mad, or another form of mad like “girl power mad,” that I just find my center of calm.
It just so happens that my center of calm involves daggers, flames among other things that can inflict violence.
After finding my center of calm, I met another boy from whatever, who tried to explain to me what exactly whatever was.
I have this thing where when I meet people in Greek organizations, I just start asking them really direct questions like, “What’s the point of a fraternity?”.
They immediately get super shifty, start sucking at pool — seriously, someone could do psychology research on this shit. With just one question, it’s like their identity is broken.
Just to give you some insight, he first tried to explain to me where his fraternity house was located.
What He Said: Are you familiar with this town?
What He Said Next: Well like you know where the Alpha Pi (something or other) house is right?
What He Said Then: Oh.
But after that we had a totally interesting conversation…about nothing. Really thought provoking though! I’ve been thinking about nothing all night.
I’ve decided that I don’t really like whatever. Here’s why:
They all kept calling each other “brothers,” which is weird to me because clearly there is no familial relation and I find it bizarre that they wish for there to be.
Then they all ran in a big pack like a cult. No wonder whatever guy #1 was so threatened by independence. He’s never fucking experienced it.
On top of all this, it’s like one bad style mistake after another. Seriously, guys wear those jeans? No wonder those sorority sluts are undressing them! Christ.
Yeah yeah, I drank my hatorade this morning. Mostly because I’m kind of hungover.
Did someone say electrolytes? Yeah. Didn’t think so.
I don’t have time for just whatever ya know?
To be honest, which I sometimes am, I had a good time last night. I got to shoot pool which really helped with the whole “center of calm” thing. (Mostly because they put a weapon in my hands.) I got to hang out with the wolf pack. (You know…howlin’ at the moon and stuff.) And I got to wear yet another one of my solid black ensembles. (Speaking of which!)
When I first arrived at the bar, I asked the wolf pack how I looked. On a scale of 1-10, of course, because guys get all panicky when you ask them to describe their opinion using actual adjectives.
C gave me a 9.
I fought my inner girlness and let that -1 slide. But don’t get me wrong, I thought about it for at least 22 minutes.
I was feeling pretty good, like 9-level good.
Later on that evening, this singer guy started hitting on me. I only know he was a singer because he literally serenaded me by the bar.
Now that’s not something I would recommend if you’ve ever been called tone-deaf or told that your voice resembled a dying animal, but I gotta say, for him it totally worked.
I love musicians.
I can’t say it enough.
Here, I’ll say it again.
I love musicians.
Anyhow, singer and I parted ways to go join back up with our friends.
Later on, I went to the bathroom and saw this gorgeous blonde girl walking out before me. I mean it. Gorgeous.
She was the worst kind of gorgeous too. Thin. Tan. Blonde. Did I mention thin? The kind of girl who would really threaten whatever boy #1.
I went back to the wolf pack and I was like…Yeah. I’m definitely a 9.
Later on, I disappointingly saw singer boy buying blondie an obscene amount of drinks. Because of course…he found the 10.
I tried to explain it all to the wolf pack on our way to a different bar.
Because there she was, all blonde and wearing this white summer dress, looking just fucking angelic. And there I was, wearing black from head to toe like the fucking angel of darkness.
Does good really always trump evil?
Whatever…and I don’t mean the fraternity.