So last night, I went out to the Badlander with some friends. I left around 11:30, after kissing a cute guy. Walked back to the dorms and went to bed.
Tonight, I went to my first frat party. I had met the guys a few days ago when I was walking by their house, and noticed them playing football. We ended up hanging out for a few hours, and they invited me to the party.
After a chest sunburn this afternoon, I put on jeans and a button up shirt with heels. Not what I was planning on, but I thought I looked okay.
I got to the party, where I was told "Don't drink too much, and only drink in the basement. Have fun!" before I went inside. So I found my way downstairs...where there were a ton of girls, all dressed in their short ripped-across-the-thighs-and-ass shorts and tiny tank tops and heels (all 18-20), and some guys (18-early 20s). I grabbed a beer, not trusting the mixed 'jungle juice', and talked to a freshman. Who introduced me to more 18 year-old girls. I felt so freaking old. Legally drinking, but still old.
The beer pong in the tiny room was raucous. The games of flip cup that followed were even louder. I bowed out, explaining "I only play flip cup with Italian men." While that's true (it happened at Disney World), I really hate drinking games.
So flip cup got progressively louder, and I decided to go outside. Where I stayed for about an hour, chatting with the frat guys about life and classes and girls and things. It was nice and quiet and cool. I had fun talking to the guys-guys I nicknamed Superman, Prince Eric, Phoebus (from Hunchback of Notre Dame), Charlie Weasley, and Batman. After that hour of talking to them, the plastered freshman pledges, and watching the parade of wench-dressed 18 year-old girls, I was done. After one beer, I was ready for my room.
I walked back to campus to watch some TV and head to bed.
I don't think frat parties are for me.