The other day, I was chatting with former TSM writer, Miss Sratire, herself. Our conversations are always riveting and of the utmost importance. We cover global topics and current events. You know, things like “when you were abroad, how many foreigners did you hook up with?” and “how’s your sex life?” — like I said, global topics and current events.
Anyway, during this particular conversation, we began talking about things that we’ve left at fraternity houses. Our lost items ranged from insignificant things to family heirlooms (no one tell my mom about that one) and I realized that this had to be turned into a column. I tweeted at you crazy TSM readers, asking you for the craziest thing you’ve ever left behind, and the responses ranged from hilarious, to sad, to downright strange. Regardless, they were all awesome. So, here’s to you, my friends. Cheers to your slutty behavior, your walks of shame, and the items that are lost forever.
This was the most common and most obvious answer. Honestly, if you’ve EVER walked out of a frat house WITH your dignity…you’re doing it wrong.
I walked into fraternity parties with a full face of makeup, curled hair, jewelry, and a cute outfit. Regardless of whether I left two or twelve hours later, I walked out with a fake eyelash glued to my cheek, a rat’s nest on my head, one earring, and some combination of heels and boxers. I could honestly accessorize an entire Somali pirate fleet with the amount of single earrings I now have.
3. An Invitation Back
I appreciated this response the most, because I, Rehab, have also been kicked out of a fraternity house. Shocking, right? I documented this experience a while back with one of my first columns, Frat Houses Don’t Close, and so I always feel a special kinship with girls who share my shameful experience.
This answer killed me only because I like to imagine that the girl woke up really early in the morning, stole a good t-shirt, and snuck out. Fast forward to a few hours later to the guy she did the no pants dance with turning over and coming face-to-face with a weave. Let’s be honest, for a few seconds of pure horror, this poor son of a bitch wondered what he had done while blackout and probably pictured himself as the star of a real life episode of SVU. Unbeweavable.
This particular tweet was elaborated with “I walked home in a bathing suit.” Hats off to you, girlfriend. You keep doing you. Also, the guy you hooked up with sounds like a dick. He couldn’t let you borrow a t-shirt? I mean, he definitely got high fives from his brothers for pulling that one off, but still, he’s a dick. Creative and inventive, but a dick, nonetheless.
I laughed out loud for a while when I read this answer. She even elaborated with “Worst walk home EVER” and I just about died. Personally, I wear contacts because no matter how much I want it to be true, I’m not Sloan Sabbith from The Newsroom, but as someone who has woken up missing BOTH of her contacts, I too, can attest that that walk of shame is a Rough. Fucking. Walk.
7. Bobby Pins
The amount of bobby pins that sorority girls have left at frat houses across the country must be in the millions. Maybe even billions. That is a lot of fucking bobby pins. Like, what do guys do with them? Use them as toothpicks? Poke one another? Keep a pile on the nightstand so that they can try to pin back the hair of the next girl who blows them so they can creepily watch? Whatever. They cost like a penny each. Enjoy your new poking device, gentlemen.
This was always an issue for me, especially in the winter. You’d go to the house in heels, get drunk, have an adult sleepover, and then wake up to three feet of snow outside. Obviously, because I’m a mature adult who only wears heels on the ice when I’m drunk, I would call a pledge and
demand ask her nicely to come by whatever hellhole I had slept in with a pair of UGGS (they were still cool when I was in college!). Being too hungover, embarrassed, and in need of a bagel/Plan B, I’d inevitably leave my shoes behind.
Just when you think that you’ve seen it all, a complete stranger publicly tweets at you that she lost her v-card at a frat house. She entered the house a girl and she left a fucking woman. Also, I hope she got a good shack shirt as a memento. All I got from my first time was a bad hangover and a serious case of denial.
The only thing worse than losing your phone is losing your phone at a frat house. Odds are, while you were wasted, you handed one of the brothers your phone, mumbled your password, and demanded that he play “Semi Charmed Kind of Life” for you and your gaggle of friends. Thanks to the nostalgia of the song, the screaming, the alcohol, and the fact that you subsequently started sucking, you forgot all about your phone. While you were busy shacking up and making bad decisions, brothers were busy looking through your texts and pictures in hopes of some good girl gone bad material. Even if they didn’t find nude pics, they’ve seen your texts complaining about your period and they know that you have $17 currently in your bank account. The damage is done. Go home and try again.