Guest columnist, Brendan Murray, infiltrated fraternity rush and came back with these tips.
The rushing season is upon us, and the young freshmen are flocking from one fraternity house to another, like lemmings who are trying to find the best cliff off which to throw their 3.89 GPAs. They do this in favor of having a marginally more vibrant social life and the chance to maybe sweatily grind on that cute girl from writing seminar in a dark room and then awkwardly try and talk to her next Monday before being brushed aside in favor of that guy who plays acoustic guitar in the Quad. But I digress. I recently helped coach a freshman through the rushing process, and I have transcribed the texting conversation here, so other impressionable young men can avoid the pitfalls that this one fell into.
Freshman: Hey man, I’m thinking of pledging a fraternity, what do you think?
Brendan: Yeah, great idea. Have you gone to any open rush events yet?
F: I’m about to be at one now. Me and kids from my hall are going in. Wish us luck.
B: Alright, good luck.
F: Shit I already forgot the name of the guy I just met. Was it… Brian? Bennett? It might have been Barack. I know it started with a B. Or maybe an F. Where the hell did my hallmates go?
B: Just go meet other brothers and remember their names.
F: Okay, just met Steven. He seems pretty cool. And they have Chipotle! Nice!
F: Just spilled an entire bowl of rice and guacamole on Steven. This could not be going any worse.
B: Maybe you should try another fraternity instead.
F: The first kid I met just made me leave. I think it’s safe to say I’m not getting a bid there. Because he actually said that. Beverly! That’s his name!
B: Shit, sorry man. Better luck at the next one.
F: I’m in line for another frat. TONS of chicks. That’s good, right? Means they must be popular.
F: All these girls are looking at me weird. Whatever, they’ll like me when I’m in this frat. Hey, the cute girl from my writing seminar is here!
F: I have an odd feeling about his. Where are all the dudes?
F: Okay, I’ve officially been labelled a pervert in front of like 150 girls, including Writing Seminar Girl. How was I supposed to know this was a sorority? All the greek letters look the same. Wait, is the girl from my writing seminar named Beverly? Then what’s that other guy’s name?
B: Hey I was at dinner, sorry I didn’t respond for a while.
B: Hahahaha wait that’s hilarious. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe rushing isn’t your specialty.
F: You think? Just re-met up with the kids from my hall. We’re going to another frat now.
B: Hahah good luck, again.
F: Now this one’s just sad. Organic kale and tofu? No wonder nobody is here. And Burt Bacharach is playing softly in the background. This place blows. I’m out.
F: Jesus those guys didn’t want me to leave. They literally begged for my phone number.
B: Yeah the smaller ones aren’t doing so well.
F: Tell me about it. One of them offered me sexual favors in exchange for a bid. I graciously turned him down. I’m not looking for dry handjobs at this stage in my life.
B: Well, beggars can’t be choosers.
F: Except I wasn’t begging. Hey, this one is actually pretty cool! I’m upstairs with some of the brothers now just chilling.
B: Nice, have fun.
B: You still hanging out at that frat?
B: Everything alright?
B: Okay talk to you later.
F: I have had five Bud Lights and two hits from a hookah and am now the God of Hellfire! All hail me and my chiseled thighs that represent the peak of human perfection!
F: I don’t think pledging is for me. I woke up pantsless next to a homeless man under the button.
F: Just got my pants back from the frat I was at. Turns out I was drinking O’Doul’s. Yikes.