It is the end of sophomore year and I have wondered if it is finally time to quit attending frat parties. This semester, admittedly, I have not gone out as much — mostly because of work and I keep getting colds — but I still like to go out and to bid farewell to my frat days would be bittersweet.

As a prospective student, I heard all about the crazy partying that went on at Brandeis University. In the bustling city of Waltham, Massachusetts, parties rarely get shut down, which make students able to fulfill their college rager fantasies. Even though the undergraduate population at Brandeis is only 3,600 students, Greek life is a big deal on campus. There are as many as five different fraternities, which give students many party options on Friday and Saturday nights. Students never find themselves looking for parties, especially not freshman year. Brandeis students are constantly throwing parties (even during finals)!

I would miss the atmosphere of the parties. I especially love the music played at frat parties. I love partying to the same songs I enjoyed at middle school dances, particularly “Low” by Flo-Rida and “I Gotta Feeling” by the Black Eyed Peas. I love how all the parties take place in basements; it is always amusing to have pipes leaking on me as I dance with friends. I love how consistent the climate is in the basements. In August when I came back to school, I thought it was endearing to have everyone around me dripping with sweat. I somehow always forgot a hair tie; instead I loved reveling in letting my frizzy brown hair stick to my sweaty neck. It is a staple to partying, after all.

I might miss making out with a random person, only to see that same stranger the next morning in Sherman for breakfast, and the next Monday on the way to class, and two hours later in line for lunch at Usdan, and studying that night in Lower Green. I honestly enjoyed these encounters, as they remind me of the “community” at Brandeis. I will also miss the moments when all of my friends left me so they could hook up with boys while I would stand in the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

I will also miss the 15-minute walk from Dartmouth Street to campus, and especially look forward to getting emails from public safety about the infamous Waltham flasher, there to corner girls on their way to frat parties on weekend nights.

Maybe next year I will limit myself to the ever-more-mature parties held in Ridgewood, Ziv, and the Mods. There, I will discuss intellectual topics with upperclassmen friends as we sip wine. This will only be to pregame the raging that will go on later in the night: a trip to The Stein.

But in all honesty, catch me next weekend at a frat — I guarantee I will be there.