Professional Full Time Frat Boy from April 2007

I consider myself a professional full-time frat boy.

I work for my college fraternity and have worked for the organization since I graduated. I started by traveling around the country for two years living out of fraternity houses, wearing four inch platform shower shoes, and wondering what crazy disease might be lurking on the couch where I was sitting, all the while trying to convince 18-21 year olds that excessive drinking and sex with women can be bad for them. It was quite the testosterone charged experience, way too involved to explain here. That lasted for two years and I had enough. I realized that college boys are way too high maintenance for me.

Now, I spend my days as a professional full-time frat boy working as a professional beggar. Get your minds out of the gutter. I am a fundraiser, working with alumni to raise money for new programs, scholarships, and all that jazz.

On some rare occasions, I have an opportunity to play college frat boy again. Yesterday was one of those days.

I pulled up to the fraternity house ready to do some community service and came upon a group of shirtless boys playing basketball. It was at that point that I knew this was going to be a long and very interesting day. The mating dance of the college frat boy had begun and I was about to witness it in full effect. While it hasn't been too long ago that I was performing this same ritual, I always forget how amusing it is to see it live and in person.

The basketball is bounced over to me and I shoot around with them for a few minutes before I decide that I should find the person who is responsible for me and get my marching orders for the day. Pleasantries are exchanged, mostly in the form of "what up dawg," "hey buddy," "yo yo," all combined with some form of an intricate handshake, finger snap, and shoulder nudge greeting. You know, the man code that exerts an extreme amount of coolness. I am lucky if I can remember a quarter of their names, but I always manage to get away with the generic "hey buddy" or "hey brother."

So I spent the next hour watching these young men debate as to whether or not it was going to rain and if they should tear down all of the equipment for the talent contest and move it under a tent. Of course, there was appropriate drama involved in this decision, because that would mean several of the shirtless boys would have to get dressed after they moved things around in the rain. And, oh my goodness, what if nobody comes to watch the event if it rains?!? The clouds parted, the shirtless boys did indeed finally put on some shirts, and the crowds started to arrive. Finally, in true frat-time, the event gets started…15 minutes late.

In a cross between the Miss America pageant and Girls Gone Wild, I watched these women answer questions in formal wear, "Delt wear" of purple and gold concoctions, and performing their variation on some kind of talent—for almost three hours. Seven young ladies vying to become the next "frat-favorite," a title that obviously holds some important esteem to these people. One of the young women sang a song that called out almost every frat boy for his sexual antics, while another choreographed an old standard and changed the words in a tribute to her boyfriend.

Imagine the looks of horror on the parent faces (who were there to celebrate spring parent's weekend and enjoy all that is good and pure about college life) when their little boys were called to the carpet for…well, we'll just leave it at the carpet.

There was cup stacking, a harpist, a terrible rendition of a Fresh Prince rap, and a drawing of one of the other judges. Talk about trying to buy votes. One of my favorites was watching the expressions of the four boys who were carrying one of the ladies out on a surfboard. Think queen of sheba meets fourth grade cheerleaders. Thank goodness she didn't hit the ground.

In a sea of college hormones, here I sit taking all of this in and trying to process. Boys chasing girls, girls chasing boys, boys avoiding girls because of what they did last weekend…or last month…or last year. Boys pretending to chase girls, but really watching the other boys. And everyone is trying to figure out how I fit into this equation, especially when one of my college-age girl friends comes for a visit and jumps into my arms. For a moment, time stopped and everyone's heads turned. "This guy is old and he is picking up too?" It just isn't fair. The faces may change, but the dance stays the same. Only now instead of the song being "Da Dip" by Freak Nasty, it is "SexyBack" by the young master of sexy, JT.

At the end of the day, a winner is announced and she and her sorority sisters scream, yell, and perform their tribal victory song proclaiming them the best in the land. The boyfriend will certainly get lucky tonight and who knows, maybe so will a few of the other young lads who are lurking in the distance, waiting to pounce on the opportunity to woo with congratulations and "you're the best sorority ever!"

If you have a chance to interact with college-kids, do it. It is a good reminder of the glory days of all night drinking, early morning wake-up calls, and truly living life like there is nobody watching or taking notes. Like I said before, the faces may change, but the dance stays the same.

Be well, friends. And don't forget to try and live like no one is watching.