The Art Of NGAF

The Art Of NGAF

It has come to my attention that there is an interesting dichotomy of the typical sorority girl. On one hand, there is the cultural expectation that we are perfect ladies who spend our evenings studying and working on needleprint, looking up recipes, and planning our weddings because we have been groomed to be so prim, proper, and classy. It’s almost offensive how well-mannered we are. We don’t get rowdy! We’re LADIES, for fuck’s sake. I’m clutching my pearls just thinking about drinking too much, or letting some random gentleman who’s had twelve too many shots kiss me!

Alright, just kidding. We know that’s not the reality. Yes, going Greek implements the value of being a part of something that’s bigger than you are and honoring traditions that have been around for decades. Going Greek means affording yourself a social network unparalleled in other social circles on campus. Going Greek also gives you the right to act like you run campus, because, let’s face it, you basically do.

While I know our founders are probably rolling over in their graves knowing what a “mixer” consists of in this day and age, I think one remarkably admirable trait we all have is the supreme ability to not give a fuck.

On one of our shoulders, there rests an angelic lady in letters, and on the other there is a drunk devil, wildly dancing to house music. What, pray tell, is so appealing about not giving a single fuck? A lot of things.

By not caring about what people think, you’re exuding the self-confidence I’m pretty sure all of our founders had hoped to instill in us when they created our respective sororities. I mean, did they intend for us to rage our faces off in Mexico on Spring Break or do 28 shots of vodka on big/little reveal night? Probably not, but I think the end justifies the means here, right?

Not giving a single fuck is actually way harder than it seems, though. It’s in our nature to take everything personally, because we’re girls and we actually have brains. Did our frenemy post that status about us? Does the guy we have a crush on actually hate us because he hasn’t texted us back? No, of course not, but we assume so because we give a fuck about life. We care about the way people perceive us…up to a certain point.

Once junior or senior year rolls around, you finally hit your stride on campus. You’ve found your solid group of friends, figured out which frats are your favorite, and have taken enough classes in one concentrated subject matter that you actually, definitely, have a major. Recruitment was nerve-wrecking freshman year, and super intense sophomore year because you were rushing your potential soul mate/little, but now at this point, you’re just in it to have fun.

Once you stop giving a fuck, you realize the world is your oyster. At this point, themed parties become even more fun because you aren’t concerned with making an ass of yourself, and you’re not trying to look hot to impress the guys you’re paired with because you already know all of them. You aren’t worried about pretending to like THAT ONE GIRL in the pledge class ahead of yours that you just don’t click with, because fuck it, the odds were that there was going to be one of them anyway, and you’ve already established your core group of best friends.

Concerns of keeping up with appearances passes, and you start concentrating on your own best interest. It is only when you reach this point that you realize how ridiculous you were during your first two years on campus when you were so concerned with making friends and pleasing everyone. Nobody likes a people pleaser, and ironically, everyone will love you once you realize that.

How does one just re-wire herself and choose to believe the exact opposite of what she has always felt? It’s pretty simple, actually: do you like yourself or the rest of the world more?

Since I’m pretty positive everyone is as narcisstic as I am, the answer should be a no-brainer. From there on out, looking out for #1 becomes simple, and so do your subsequent life choices. Oh, the guilt from here on out also becomes minimal. I mean, if you don’t care what’s going on, you can’t feel guilty about hooking up with your ex, or getting too drunk, or making that sort of cunty remark. It’s called a sense of humor, ever heard of it?

There is a time for nodding disapprovingly at the girls who get too wild, and that time is called your late 40’s when you’re busy yelling at your own daughter. In the end, the art of NGAF is a finely tuned skill, much like the social equivalent of playing piano or knitting. It’s one I think we should all work on and perfect during our time in college, because you get a mere four years of minimal responsibility before these people called your “employers” mandate you start caring about things such as your “job” and suck all the fun out of the rest of your life.


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