When I was just seventeen years old and a freshman in college, I pledged a sorority. I was only on campus for about a week before Rush started – by the following year, the university decreed that Rush become a second semester event so impressionable freshmen girls could focus on shit like passing Finance 101 instead of on how to best decorate bottles of Boone’s Farm Wild Cherry Wine with puffy paint – and after dozens of parties populated by clapping and singing girls finally ended, I was given a bid.
My days became jam-packed with sorority events: Mai-Tai Mixers, Dressy Date Parties, Make Your Own Sundae With Your Purchased Sisters. Most of it was pretty fun, but for me the most exciting night of all of those many exciting and exhausting nights was the night I got my Big Sister.