The Chronicles of a “Sorority” Girl: Part 2

As I mentioned in the previous post, I like to consider myself a scientist. I like to consider myself a scientist because after I’ve gathered more information in my studies I’ve learned that I make a shitty scientist. I wasn’t sure if I would ever write a follow up to the brilliant, critically acclaimed first post but I decided to take a risk and try to ingratiate myself in with the animals I was studying. Which surprisingly was easier than I expected because when you combine a suave, almost James Bond-like charm combined with a physical appearance that ensures they’ll never look at you as more than their weird brother, they’re surprisingly open. To be fair, I’m doing a slow burn process of becoming one of them. I say this because they’re yet to invite me to their large parties that probably incorporate cannons that shoot foam, and I’m yet to experience the sheer exhilaration of watching women get hit on in by bars by men much more attractive than I am that I am sure are much dumber than me as well. Obviously, I do not much about the fabled sorority girl social life if those are the two acts that comprise the majority of their free time, while on the other hand, I would not be surprised if I was correct.

That isn’t the point though. None of that is the point! Didn’t I start to talk about myself as a poor scientist and not explain the why? You’re right I did do that. I might be a little distracted by the angelic voice of Taylor Swift currently playing now that she’s back on Spotify. I’m sorry Taylor but you gotta be paused. Okay, it’s over. It actually isn’t over. She’s still playing. Seriously, it’s done now. The big revelation that threw everything for a loop was finding out a girl wasn’t a sorority girl. This information was monumental in and of itself but then you’re going to tell me she revealed another girl wasn’t a sorority girl?! She did. That left me with more questions than answers, except I figured that if I asked all the questions it wouldn’t give me a point in rambling on and on about this on this blog. For one, it really complicates my theory that sorority girls are given an injection of a futuristic pharmaceutical that somehow tricks the body into accepting every fried chicken sandwich as kale. One girl specifically said she’d never eaten a vegetable in her life! Of course, that’s hyperbole, yet it still doesn’t change the sentiment. I can eat a salad every day for a month and my body will still resemble Frosty the Snowman come to life. This isn’t about me though, I’m a silent observer, nothing more. This is about the sheer fact that nothing makes sense to me at all anymore. This is about how people can come all the way from New Jersey and somehow morph into the sorority girl aesthetic without even having been in a sorority at all. I have not stepped into a high school in quite some time, but I do remember that fashion seemed to have some sort of importance. Though I’m typically impeccably dressed and an icon for the male community, I’m not here to lecture on what looks good or not. I’m pretty sure last time I said these girls could be attractive no matter what they wore, and that isn’t the point either. What I’m trying to understand is what causes the change in the girl? It could be something as simple as just wanting to conform, to not wanting to stand out in a sea of familiarity. It could have something to do with not wanting to do much in the morning and just throwing on some clothes and going. Granted, one can say that and then think that high school started earlier than even the earliest of college classes. However, then one could argue that since you’re under the house of your parents you might want to dress a little better in order to impress them. Again, I’m just spitballing here. For my entire life, I’ve essentially worn a tuxedo every single day. I wake up hours before class. I take showers, I apply all the essential oils, I iron, I apply countless products to my hair, I rub off old skin cells, and I look like a younger George Clooney when I’m done. Then I wake up from my dream and put on a pair of shorts that I created from cutting pants in half. Again, this isn’t about me. This is how about how a girl can relocate to the South from the North and morph completely into the sorority stereotype without ever having been in a sorority and throwing all my research in disarray. It’s true that I haven’t worn the short Nike running shorts because I don’t have the slender, lithe body of Michael Cera in Juno but can they really be that comfortable? I know it was said that one would get honey, nectar, and ambrosia when joining the gods but if you ask a female at the University of the Alabama, then I wouldn’t be surprised if they say you’re bequeathed short shorts, oversized t-shirts, and chacos. Could all these questions be easily answered if I actually asked any of this to my focus of study? Sure it could. As I said though, as soon as I give away my position, then my research is ruined. I’ve turned down the countless invites to spend time with this population in the real world, specifically so I could keep researching in a controlled manner. Am I possibly confusing the countless offers with one meager offer that happened only in a dream? That’s not the point, because how many times do I have to say this isn’t about me dammit!

The problem about my lack of editing which even includes not reading back what I wrote just ten minutes ago is I forget what I already said and I’m hesitant that I might repeat myself again. Let’s just clear the basics again just to make sure I hit all the points. I am horrible at analyzing what makes or doesn’t make a sorority girl, but to my credit it’s hard to differentiate when everyone wears the same outfits. I wonder if the outfit metamorphasis is a gradual process though. For instance, in the majority of my Social Work classes, I am one of two guys at most. I completely understand dressing for comfort and not feeling the need to “impress” someone due to your attire. What about when someone starts college though and they’re taking the required classes with assorted genders and sexualities. Do people dress up because they want to entice a potential mate? Are people you might find drunkenly at a bar worth the extra effort you put in fashion-wise compared to someone you might come across at a grocery store? The thing is me commenting on this is something that I can not do in any light at all without making myself look bad and I understand that. I’m not here to say what a woman should or shouldn’t wear and how she presents herself is entirely up to her and no one else, especially not the mind of a man. I’m just curious in the line of thinking is all, or I’m honestly probably more curious because I have a very little change in my attire regardless of the circumstance which just speaks to my inability to be dapper. But can we still get back to how these girls are guzzling down sodas and doing beer funnels and rocking bikinis a month later? I just want to know their gosh darn secrets! To find all these answers and more, I will continue doing my research into this population of women. I can’t call them sorority girls because most likely I’ll be wrong on that account, so women it is. I just hope they don’t get any ideas and try to incorporate me into their lives as their quirky best friend and have me around at every instance because they’ll start to realize I live alone and have lots of free time and am very open to doing anything, anytime, anywhere, and anyday. Ha, that’s a good line. That’s why I made sure to include it at the very end so no one will actually get that far and read my cries for help. So it goes.


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