What REALLY Happens in Sorority Houses?

My palms were sweating as I nervously stood at the porch of a sorority on Willamette University's campus. I did that thing where you pull-up to a place you've never been before, and text the person inside to notify them of your arrival, because it's way too difficult and or humiliating to knock on the door.

"I'm here" I texted.

"Kk" she replied.

I took roughly 45 seconds to ponder why the hell people feel the need to write "Kk" and why it can't just be "okay" or "alright" or "sounds good" or any other sort of affirmation.

After 3 minutes, it appeared that 3 minutes was at least 2 times the appropriate amount of time that it would take a human being to reply to a text message, get up from the couch, and come greet me in the driveway.

So, I acted as any rational human would have acted, and I started panicking. A lot.

'Oh god, this is an elaborate prank. She told me to come over, but really she is with all of her sisters, and they are all talking about how that tall idiot looks like such an idiot right now.'

So, yeah. I stood up. I walked to the porch.

There was a god-damn buzzer. A BUZZER. Who the hell has a house with a buzzer? It's the least inviting way to say, "hey, house full of seventy girls, I am here. Don't believe me? Okay, BZZZZZZZZZT!"

So, I buzzed, then in the following moments, I decided to let go of my anxiety, and create a completely imaginary situation that is OBVIOUSLY how the rest of my night would go. This is that situation.

“What’s the word?” she asked me, once she FINALLY opened the door.

“Um, Trampoline?” I said.

“Holy shit, come on in,” she said.

I got six steps into the house before the inevitable happened.

“MAN ON!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

I immediately retreated, sure that the Ninja-Sister would drop down from the attic, judo-chop my neck, and drag my body off to be fed to the cannibal-sisters. Before this could happen, I sprinted towards the door I had just entered through, and was tripped up by something.

It was obviously the infiltrating-sister. The one who makes sure guests stay for as long as they are welcomed, no longer, no less.

“Now, just what the HELL do you think you’re doing?” Infiltrating sister said, with her heel pressed on my cheek.

“Um I am leaving. Because I don’t want to get killed by ninja-sister, and then eaten by the sisters that like to eat humans,” I said turning my head upwards.

“Oh, guys, wait. It’s just Sean. He’s barely a man. Actually, he’s legally a woman in 32 states,” she said.

"Sean, are you okay?" Reality sister asked me. It was at this point that I steeped even further into my fantasy. Nobody could ruin this for me now, not even consciousness.

Let's try this again:

Me: BZZZZZZZT

Girl1: Hey, do I know you?

Me: Hey, I'm here to see Katherine

Girl 1: Okay, sure, come on in.

Girl 1: "MAN ON!"

Girls 4-12: "MAN ON...SORT OF!"

Me: You already said that.

Girl 1: Sorry, house protocall. We have to yell man on, just so the ladies know there is a man present. You know, in-case they are prancing around in scandalous bunny outfits, or having sexually experimental interactions with eachother.

Me: Oh, totally. Wouldn't want any of that.

Girl 3: Hey Sean. I was wondering if you noticed that I am wearing only underwear, and an oversized vintage T-shirt. Did you notice that?

Me: (drooling)

Girl 3: Are you okay?

Me: Yes. I am okay.

Girl 3: Okay, did you notice that I am now giving you a back massage?

Girl 5: Hey Sean, did you notice that I am also giving you a back massage?

Girl 2: Hey Sean, did you also notice that I am feeding you grapes, and just told you that I think your blog is funny?

Me: I noticed all of those things, sorority sisters. I also noticed that there is a smell of fresh baked cookies coming from the kitchen.

Girl 1: Hey Sean, do you mind that I made you a dozen cookies, with white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts? Do you mind that I spelled your name with vanilla-almond frosting on each one?

Me: Hey girls, I don't mind any of these things. These are all things that I do not mind!

Girl 4: More grapes?

Girl 8: Hey Sean, I just got done doing yoga. How's my flexibility?

Me: Your flexibility looks like something that is good. Oh, oh God, are you okay? You are contorting your body in a manner that appears very painful.

Girl 8: I'm a PRETZEL!

Girl 2: Sean, do you mind that I made you some delicious chocolate covered pretzels? Here, have them! And if you could, eat them off of my stomach, please. That's the only way I like to serve pretzels. Is on my stomach. So, do it. Now.

Me: Okay, that is kind of weird, but you are very demanding, and I will do what you just asked me to do.

Girl 5: Guys, I love pillow-fights. But do you know the only thing I love more than pillow-fights?

Girl 2: Sean?

Girl 5: Well, that too.

Girl 4: Sean again?

Girl 5: Yes. But what I was getting at, is the only thing I like more than pillow fights are pillow fights in my underwear. Because that allows for the most range of motion, and I feel like I can beat the shit out of you easier when wearing lingerie. Extremely sexy lingerie.

Girl 2: I totally get that.

Me: I am nervous, girls. I haven't pillow-fought in 2 years, and the last time I did it, I got a cut on my eyebrow, and broke my index finger. Will you please take it easy on me?

Girl 4: No prisoners, BITCH!

(She jumps, puts me in a choke-hold, and steps on my head)

Me: This is more painful and less pleasant than the part of the night where you were making me cookies and telling me how funny I am. Ouch, that's my ear.

Girl 3: Sorority pillow fights are things that we take very seriously. Don't fuck with us. Or we will fuck you up.

Me: I am sorry. Can we go back to feeding grapes?

Girl 1: The only grapes you will eat are the grapes in hell. And I heard the grapes in hell taste nothing like grapes at all, and more like SHIT FROM A VERY SICK DONKEYS ASSHOLE! ! !

(BLAAULAAAULAAH)

(Girl 1 is now salivating, and attempting to bite me. My night in the sorority is quickly becoming less fun.)

Girl 4: You chauvinistic ASSHOLE! You seriously thought we just sit around in our underwear all day, baking cookies, and talking about how badly we want to bone guys like you? Congrats, you play a sport. Go wear your cut-off and join a fraternity, you self-obsessed asshole.

Girl 2: HAHAHA, I SHIT IN THE MACADAMIA NUT COOKIES!

Girl 3: (removes mask) MUUAHAHA I AM ACTUALLY A MAN. Yes, I realize a very beautiful man, with feminine qualities, but a MAN NONETHELESS. How insecure do you feel about your sexuality NOW!? You told me I was a good kisser! ! ! !

Girl 7: Your blogs are fuckin' dumb!

Girl 9: Except for the one you're going to write about that one time you got FUCKED UP by those sorority girls!

Girl 11: Those grapes I mentioned before were actually DEER DROPPINGS COATED IN SUGAR, YOU DEER-SHIT-EATER!

Then, they all castrated me. It was a rather beautiful ceremony, minus the blood and screaming. There were candles lit, I remember that.

It was at this point that I snapped out of it, and my friend opened the door. We spent the evening watching reality television, and talking about school. It was extremely ordinary, pretty fun, and I walked out of there with my balls intact.

In short, stop being so stereotypical, you assholes. Sorority sisters are just like you and me. Just way prettier.