Letters To The Sorority Girls I’ve Met Postgrad

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Letters To The Sorority Girls I’ve Met Postgrad

The One Who Got Married First

You really took one for the team. We have all been looking forward to this day since graduation. Thank you. More specifically, thank you to your dad. It’s not every day that grown men are cool with dropping 10 grand on an open bar for a bunch of 22-year-old men that can drink like a swarm of famished locusts. Thank you for marrying one of my pledge brothers, and reuniting our class for a spectacular weekend. Sorry about spilling my drink on your dress when Montell Jordan’s “This Is How We Do It” came on. Good thing it was only a vodka water. I’m also sorry about the four of my pledge brothers who cost you your security deposit after breaking a bathroom mirror while trying to do coke off of it. Boys will be boys.

With love,

Champ

P.S. Does the “boys will be boys” excuse still count?

The One Who Hooked Up With Me After The One Who Got Married First’s Wedding

You were quite the minx. Seeing your friend get married off really sent your biological clock into overdrive. You really freaked me out when you told me to, and I quote, “Blast your seed into my birth canal” during our first attempt at sex. I thought it best to just leave right then, but after you started crying I wasn’t going to leave you in the hotel room alone with all that leftover liquor from the pre-reception party. And even though it didn‘t seem like it, I was totally paying attention to you during all seven of my trips to the mini bar. I know I spoke mostly in clichés during our two-hour conversation, but I’m thankful for you rewarding my patience with fellatio by the dawn‘s early light. That was very much appreciated. I’m sorry I left before you woke up, but I wanted to spare myself the embarrassment of walking out of a hotel at 9:00am still wearing my clothes from the wedding.

Regards,

Champ

P.S. Do you still have that pair of argyle socks I left in your room? I really like those.

The Event Planner

That happy hour benefiting the Boys & Girls Club was awesome last week. I was especially pleased to see that you had emailed me an invite to yet another black tie event for that next weekend right when I got home. You seem obsessed with plugging our group of friends into our town’s elite social circle. That is much appreciated. My neighborhood’s dry cleaner also appreciates it, as my suits are covered in dried alcohol after every single one of these events. Respectfully, I’d like to ask you to refer to our alma mater’s football and basketball schedules before inviting us to these events, as I generally have prior engagements on those dates. You are more than welcome to join me and my friends for those events, as they can be quite entertaining and I don’t have to sacrifice my suits to the cocktail party gods.

Sincerely,

Champ

P.S. Sorry for ordering Jagerbombs at the zoo fundraiser last month. I thought those girls wanted to party.

The One Who Lost All That Weight

First off, you look great. I mean, wow. What are you doing? P90X? South Beach diet? Starving yourself? I know one of our pledges called you “fat Erin Andrews” during a serenade our sophomore year, and that caused a near riot in your sorority’s foyer, and I never thought it would cause that much harm to the relationship between our houses. Regardless, we blackballed that kid two weeks later. The two cancel one another out, right? Anyway, after seeing you the other night, I just thought I’d reach out and say hi again. I was really disappointed when you turned down that second Vegas bomb, though. It just seemed that rum and diet wasn’t getting the job done. That must’ve taken somer serious will power, as you weren’t one to shy away from excess in college. I remember finding you in the study after a house party, eating an entire pizza by yourself. I know I asked you to never tell anyone what happened after I found you, and we made out until I passed out with you on top of me, but I mean, given recent developments, I wouldn’t have a problem with you telling people. Kind of a Neil Armstrong “I was there first” complex, I guess. Anyway, hope you keep it up. You look amazing and hopefully I’ll see you out more often.

Later,

Champ

P.S. Where do you workout?

The One Who Wanted To Date Me, But Couldn’t Take A Hint

I appreciate the phone calls and texts every weekend. It‘s really nice of you. I just really hope you‘re not getting confused about how I feel about you. It wasn’t in my best judgment to come over to your place at 4:00am on New Year’s Eve, but it was New Year’s Eve and I couldn’t pass out after drinking six Red Bull-vodkas, which explains why it took so long to finish, okay? I understand that we have a history together, and you’re a very sweet girl, I just don’t have those kinds of feelings for you. I thought we were pretty clear about what this was when we started hooking up. I especially didn’t appreciate the 17 progressively angry voicemails left on my phone on the morning of February 15. I understand your feelings for me, as this is not the first time I have had to explain myself to a woman who is obsessed with me. I thought my “no sleepover” rule would have given you all you needed to know, but I guess not. I appreciate you as a friend, but I really am not ready for any kind of long term-type situation with anyone right now.

Keep on truckin’

Champ

P.S. I”ll hit you up tonight.


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