Know the crew before you climb on board. Many sororities have a profound effect on the members within them, for better or for worse. A few pointers may help understand the beast that comes with such institutions, told from the perspective of a guy shacked up with one.
1. Interaction is charted by tradition.
There’s so much you will never understand, and that’s the way they’re going to keep it. Many rules are in place to hold these girls under the same organization, and those rules have been working for years before you showed up. The energy from a group of girls with the same Greek letters can be a lot to handle, as if one of them wasn't enough. They feed off of each other in a way that makes their parties reach crescendos unlike any other party you'll find yourself in. If you can handle the collective, you may have a shot at handling the individual.
2. She's busy having more fun than you.
It was her 21st birthday recently, and I was underage. Her beauty that night shattered anything I had expected, donning a simple silver-white dress harmonizing with her angelic features. Her fellow sisters threw her a hell of a party, crowning their debutante like a princess with me as her aspiring arm candy. Whatever she told her sisters about me (they obviously tell each other everything) allowed me to assimilate into their posse with the kind of grace a true princess embodies. We hopped around a couple of bars, but separated after she moved on to better places. She never asked me directly to leave her, but it was her night to be free on the bar scene, not to babysit me and my brother’s fake ID. While my princess tore up the town, my night consisted of hanging out with a freshman that was crashing on the couch at her place while waiting for the bars to close. Our conversation went the usual route, bouncing from jobs we hated, people with egos, suspicious sushi, Black Lives Matter, and what kind of pizza to order. A barely audible phone call guided me to a different house where the birthday girl was recovering. Tally marks on her arm for each drink emphasized what a good idea a glass of water would be, blurring the line between waiter and medic. Her sisters bid her farewell before finally placing her in my care for what was left of the night.
3. Be ready for a mutual metamorphosis.
The name Helen comes from Homer's myth of "The Odyssey" as having a face that sailed a thousand ships to the fortified city of Troy. But I feel more like a Penelope, waiting behind at the castle of the hero while she goes off on the adventures having songs sung about her and taking on the forces of the gods. Even if being a homebody wasn't on my agenda, sometimes one must answer the call of duty and get in the kitchen. I like to think of myself as an essential support pillar, even if the traditional roles are reversed. Call me whipped, but there does appear to be virtue in sharing a meal made with love instead of from a microwave. Or maybe that's just what I keep telling myself.
