Let’s play a little game of “Bid or No Bid?” with a youngster who randomly emailed our tip line the other day for seemingly no other reason than to let our staff know he was living the frat lifestyle well before his time to join an actual fraternity was to come. In fact, “it all started in [his] middle school days.”
The kid, a high school freshman who will remain nameless, is full of piss and vinegar for all things frat. He drinks, smokes pot, lives in the #burbs, flaunts a bad boy reputation on the streets, and threw out all his NF clothing to make room for boat shoes and polos.
His email is below.
I am a high school freshman and I live the fraternity life. Most of you will probably blow this off because “I should be playing Pokemon and jerking off to nudie mags” but I enjoy the fraternity life not for the girls, alcohol or the illusion of a drunken Utopia but for the brotherhood that can be appreciated through out one’s life…and the alcohol.
The wealth and class assumed when initiated into a fraternity first gathered my attention. I strive to be better than my middle class parents. Better than old navy and target brand jeans. Supporting my self without the assistance of financial aid. That is what I strive for and the fraternity life exemplifies those goals.
It all started in my middle school days. I was a year older than most kids in my class and had half a beard and foot on each one of them. I was good enough with girls and had a solid group of friends to ravage through the streets of my suburban hometown in Georgia. I started to meet a group of older guys around the middle of my 8th grade year. They started to introduce me to alcohol, marijuana, and tobacco products. All making me feel older and cooler but nearly ruining my reputation with the power force of moms in my town who were virtually clones of Amy Poehlers character in Mean Girls. I had a black mark on my name that I desperately wanted to change.
I was a good time having, middle school kid dressed in jeans and a graphic tee. I watched my brother, who would soon be going off to college, wearing khakis and boat shoes and expressing his excitement for college and Rush week. He told me stories about experiences he’d been told, they proved to be stretched far beyond reality but still made for a good story. I concluded I wanted those stories to happen to me. I wanted to be that guy who drank to his hearts consent without consequences, the guy who drunkenly hit on girls by telling a sexist joke and taking home the girl!
I wanted to be frat.
I chucked my old navy jeans and started wearing khakis. Gave my graphic tees away and started to wearing polos. My old tattered Nikes turned to sperrys and I felt like a man.
I wanted to have class but be as rowdy as I wanted. I was setting my self up for success.
By now, you’re probably thinking “What a fucking try hard” or “My god, I want to punch this in the face” and I get that. Im 15 years old and writing about being a fraternity member! It’s understandable. I know im not a true fraternity member yet and im sure loads of people hate my guts but I don’t give a damn. I am a rowdy, well dressed, degenerate trying to have a good time so next time you seen a skinny kid in boat shoes, a polo, and a bad beard, you can think of me. TFM.
Threw away his Old Navy jeans? ✓
Drinks and smokes? ✓
Runs the #burbs? ✓
Lives the bad boy lifestyle? ✓
Is a legacy? ✓
Definition of “consent” a little hazy? ✓
Wants to take girls home on the reg? ✓
Is a rowdy, well dressed, 15-year-old degenerate trying to have a good time in boat shoes and a polo? ✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓