Every year, the week leading up to homecoming feels like social life in Gainesville shuts down. Everyone stays in the week before preparing for the debauchery the following week promises with their partner fraternity/sorority.
It is a week full of Instagram photos from the parties with super clever and original captions like, “Killing the woodser game,” and Snapstories from pre-games and bars of 200+ people shouting “Don’t Stop Believing” like “The Sopranos” is about to end.
All of this is culminated with the finally fixed Gator Growl and a packed stadium for the depressing homecoming game against my personal second favorite team Mizzou.
Via: The Alligator
For me, however, all of this hype doesn’t mean shit. Every year my friends tell me how much fun homecoming is, but what they don’t seem to understand is that, as someone not affiliated with Greek life, I’m not paired with anyone. I don’t have a week of events and late night bus trips to look forward to. Homecoming week for me is just a normal week, but one where half of my friends already have plans…without me.
GDI, geed, unaffiliated, pussy, communist, whatever you want to call me. Point is: I’m not in a fraternity. As a straight male who goes out often and has been described as “bro-y,” I get slack for it.
To this day, one of the first questions people ask me when I go out is what frat I’m in. “I’m not” is never a good enough answer. I then have to answer the follow-up, “Why not?” And, so I’ve been rehashing my freshman fall rush experience for over two years.
It’s really not my place to bash the Greek system. Honestly, I don’t hate it. I’ve been on plenty of grab-a-dates and crashed my fair share of tailgates over the years. Most of my friends are affiliated.
I’m not one of those bitter geeds who hates the entire system because I didn’t get a bid. I get why you would want to be in a fraternity or sorority, I just knew it wasn’t for me. And, honestly, I didn’t like any of the houses enough to let them haze me.
Via: Phantom Rats
Affiliated guys and girls respectively respond in the same exact way every time I tell them I’m unaffiliated. (Maybe they teach it at chapter. Someone from nationals must’ve given a presentation on How to Talk to Geeds.)
Guys always pause for a second and give a slightly judge-y look, as they’re trying to figure out exactly what I’m about, followed by a, “Oh, that’s cool. I mean, it’s not for everyone. I didn’t think I’d be in one.”
Cool. Thanks for affirmation that this does not a weirdo make. Much appreciated.
They then follow up with the question, “So, like, how do you go out?”
Uh… The same way you do. I’m unaffiliated, not an extraterrestrial. I text my friends, figure out where the best option to pre-game is, go to said pre-game and then head to Midtown or Downtown. I just don’t have pajama parties pre-planned for me.
Girls have a different approach.
Without missing a beat, I get, “Good. I hate frats.” Mazel tov, lady, but I don’t need your validation. They then proceed to recite their reasons for hating frats, which range from cheap beer to hazing to dirty bathrooms.
But when you ask what they’re doing next Thursday, it is almost guaranteed they’re going on some function. And their Instagram is probably filled with geotags of houses that date back more than 60 weeks.
Via: Tumblr
Really, the only downside I’ve found to being unaffiliated is game day. I don’t have a house I can just show up to. I have to fight for my right to party. I need to coordinate with people to plan a tailgate, find a friend of a friend’s tailgate, crash a random tailgate or crash a frat’s tailgate. Or even an ACR tailgate, which is actually the most fun option, but that’s another story for another time.
Now that I’m 21, I’ve survived the hardest part of my geed college career. I can now buy my own alcohol, get banded and not be sketchy. It’s smooth sailing from here.
College is hard and stressful, and Greek life makes it a little easier for a lot of people. Just remember that, just like not every stereotype about your house is true, not all stereotypes about geeds are either.
See ya at Cantina.
Feature photo courtesy of: Gator Growl
