For some people, living in a mansion with 75 college-aged girls that are all hot and here to party sounds like a movie or possibly even a weird 80s porno. For betches, it was sophomore year of college.
Living in a sorority house is one of those things a lot of betches do but not a lot feel okay about putting on their resume. It was one of the most entertaining/eye-opening/traumatizing/interesting things that a betch has ever experienced; much like that time she “accidently” stumbled onto Kim K’s sex tape.
For one, the whole year completely re-revolutionized the concept of never being alone. When you live in a sorority, you don’t even get to shave your vagina in privacy, and you’ll quickly learn that that isn’t as weird as it sounds. Nothing is off limits and everyone’s hookup is very much your business, especially because it may be taking place on the top bunk while you wished you were sleeping. Really, it’s all about sisterly love and sharing.
Then there’s the food thing. The stereotype that all sorority girls care about is their hair and their squats is so not true, because their actual #1 is the buffet line. You would think that these betches haven’t seen a salad in months, because about 15 minutes before dinner is served they start pacing around the kitchen and explaining to one another that they’re fucking starving. Mind you dinner happens at 5:15.
And God forbid there’s a policy change to the food. If it’s ever announced in meeting that the sorority’s been put on probation for racking up $5,000 worth of charges at last month’s formal, everyone’s like, “lol, oops,” but the second a serious announcement happens, like they’re going to take the avocado out of Mexican Night, betches fucking lose it. HOLY SHIIIT WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO EAT NOW??? BEANS?”
When it comes to going out, it happens in mobs. One betch will get a text from an upperclassmen inviting her to come over to pregame, and by 10:15, this poor bro has 72 chicks in his apartment who’re asking why he only bought 2 handles. Unfortunately for the sorostitute, this means that they’re often limited to pregaming with frat bros that understand the necessity of the +70 policy. At least it makes you a shoe-in for exclusive away weekends.
So betches, if you never went out in the same outfit twice and you’ve gone on a Spring Break trip where the entire aircraft was filled with only people you know, (Omg yeah my sorority flew private to Mexico on this plane called United) then you know you lived in a sorority. It was one of those things that you claim as the most fun thing you ever did, even though you now realize that you only actually want to be friends with 8% of the people you lived in with. Too bad 100% of them know about what happened in Vegas.