Frat Party Blues

This past Saturday I went to my first frat party in weeks. In those few hours spent milling about in the radiant heat of 50+ people dancing/grinding on the dance floor I remembered all the reasons why I love going out on a Saturday. At the same time I remembered exactly why I prefer house parties or private parties to frat parties. While dancing I went through my list of pros and cons and came to the conclusion that it was probably best to limit my exposure to the frat party scene at least for the time being.

 Pros - I love going out with my friends. It's always great to hang out with the people who make you laugh even when school makes you wanna cry. Letting loose with your best buds is the best de-stresser after a week filled with projects, presentations, homework, prelims and midterms. Saturday night dancing with Lauren, Anthony, Elise, Andrea, Fiona and Maja among others was absolutely fun. It was also great to be the sober ones watching the drunken madness happening around you. In one case a drunken girl rammed her dance partner against the wall and proceeded to jump on him and wrap her legs around him. He seemed surprised but very very happy to have such an, um, aggressive partner.

The insanity that happens at frat parties doesn't stop there. For some reason someone thought it would be a good idea to bring their parents to a frat party. I kid you not folks, there was a mama and a papa chilling on the dance floor. The old guy seemed to have a great time though, since he was being cheered on by scantily clad co-eds (he'll never admit it to his wife though haha). But with every pro there are cons.

Cons - I really don't go to frat parties to dance with boys, but when someone comes over to ask (and hopefully they do ask first) for a dance, it's flattering. Sometimes I find myself thinking "Oh wow someone wants to dance with me?" But then I remember that these guys are probably just hoping to get laid that night, because all guys have one thing on their minds and that thing is

SEX

That's it, That's all. Girls stop thinking that you can find the love of your life at ZBTahiti or Cat in the Frat or whatever other themed party frats can come up with. All those guys just wanna get in your pants.

In addition to the sexual overdrive of the male species, women also have to deal with the constant ego busters (not boosters) that a frat party provides.
Oh look there's a cute guy who seems to be single...oh no wait there's his girlfriend...ugh her dress is so short...that slut. That's what we say/think but behind all that subconsciously we are actually thinking "I wish I looked like/was her.
Another scenario- "Ohhh look he's definitely single. Maybe he'll ask me to dance." (five minutes later) "He's dancing with her?! But she's so dumb!"
But she's the sluttiest girl there so of course he'll dance with her. So is the answer to this problem "Become that slut?" NO! Boys are idiots and think with something other than their brains. Their hearts? Nope think lower...no lower that's it...PENIS! <-- that's the word of the day (Thanks Lauren [:)
heheheheheheh (that was Lauren she likes to interject while I write)
Anyhoo continuing with the idea of ego busters I'd like to address something that was brought up in the haven of all things slutty/sex-related...that's right we're talking Jersey Shore. JS introduced us to the term "grenade" and that's been pretty much the only valuable contribution that show has given us (besides continuous punch lines). The grenade is a constant threat imposed upon us at frat parties. I had never had to "take a grenade" before this semester (once again I'd like to thank Lauren for introducing me to grenades...Thanks Lauren *sarcasm*).
For those who aren't aware, a grenade is the ugly friend of a hottie with whom you would like to dance/hook up with. Lauren has handed off two grenades to me this semester alone, although she really didn't mean to, yet I still give her the um, blame? yes the blame. >.< <----frustrated asian face (That was Lauren again I swear) (<--- false!)(<---no not really it was her)
So fyi having your friend dance with a hottie or super-hottie, whatever the case may be, while you are forced to entertain the um, grenade, is NOT (repeat:NOT!) fun at all. )': (thank you Lauren for your informative emoticons). Yes this comes off as selfish and/or conceited but it remains the truth. I do not apologize for any perceived conceitedness this post might reveal.
Now you understand why I am now recovering from my "Frat Party Blues."

PS my hair was not enjoying the party either. I spent three hours on Sunday morning fixing my Saturday-night hair (aka the hot mess on top of my head).