“You’re such like a little slice of America.” TSM.

Continuing to wear his shack shirt to remind his new girlfriend who’s boss. TSM.

Using an accidental right swipe on Tinder to sell tickets to your philanthropy dinner. TSM.

Having a nickname for every hookup. TSM.

A guy going from bangable to dateable in the swipe of a black card. TSM.

If it doesn’t have your monogram on it, is it really even yours? TSM.

Having the same feelings the night before Opening Day of Greek Week as you do on Christmas Eve. TSM.

It’s only slutty if you don’t get a t-shirt. TSM.

With a great fake comes great responsibility. TSM.

Carefully choosing your composite time based on your drinking schedule. TSM.

Only using your textbooks to prevent your sewn letters from wrinkling. TSM.

I don’t believe in pre-nups, just like I don’t believe in returning shack shirts. TSM.

The casual “By the way, I’m wearing your clothes” text. TSM.

The best place to make Panhellenic friends is in a fraternity bathroom. TSM.

The bartender knowing you by both name and drink of choice. TSM.

I want to go to class, but I NEED to go to the liquor store. TSM.

Fearlessly telling him that you did, in fact, hide his keys in his fridge when you were mad at him. TSTC.

“Ugh, your big gave you the BEST presents!” TSM.

Having a different spirit jersey for every day of the week. TSM.

“Tell me I’m prettier!” TSM.