I read lots and lots of articles, and occassionally they hit the nail right on the head. As a dartmouth frat guy (here’s the breakdown of them – try to guess which one is mine), i know people like this and can appreciate this article. It’s scary. This is from a Charlotte paper….
“During my five-year college reunion in May, I snuck into my old fraternity house, which at the time was being used as some sort
of community service dorm. As I wandered about taking pictures, a student approached and asked politely, “Excuse me, who are you?” Instinctively, I turned around and yelled menacingly, “Who the f*ck are YOU?” The girl scurried off, but the incident made me introspective. Here I am, twenty-seven-years old, with a relatively successful career, regular car insurance payments, and pillowcases that match my comforter. Yet at the same time, I can’t drink one beer without drinking twenty, I can’t converse with a girl without trying to take her home, and I can’t even step foot in a fraternity house without immediately regressing into an asshole. While college is many years behind me, vestiges of the experience remain deeply ingrained in my personality. Welcome to the world of a recovering frat guy.
“Of course, I’m not the only one. There’s an entire faction of twentysomethings out there who live seemingly mature lives – but
only to the naked eye. Take my friend Mike, a successful software developer in New York whose downtown apartment has actually been passed down for years to successive generations of graduates from his fraternity like an off-campus party house. Or my buddy Justin, a writer here in LA who is looking to move to a new place – but has yet to find one big enough to fit hisbeer pong table. Unfortunately for him, “Hardwood floor quickly soaks up cheap beer” is generally not an amenity typically found on craigslist.
Recovering frat guys aren’t required to have ever been Greek. In fact, they don’t even have to be guys. On average, every other Evite I received from girls over the past year has been for some sort of elaborate, costume/theme party that reminds me of sophomore year. If you’re a strong, independent woman in her mid-twenties who is still throwing parties entitled Pimps & Hos, Forties & Hos, or Golf Pros & Tennis Hos, you are most definitely a recovering frat guy — dressed like a whore.
To me, the phrase, “Let’s grab a drink” is both the rallying cry and secret password of the recovering frat guy movement. For some reason, no one uses that phrase until they’ve graduated college, and then they use it so frequently it becomes virtually devoid of meaning. If you really think about it, you only actually grab a drink with about 10% of the people you say that to. Of that 10%, most think you literally want to have a solitary cocktail and exchange pleasantries or discuss current events (these people are often married or lawyers). The remainder – who you quickly recognize as kindred spirits – take “grab a drink” to mean “play beer pong and find that party where chicks are dressed as whores.”
Why is it, then, that so many of us, whether subconsciously or not, have adopted this quasi-Peter Pan lifestyle? These days, it’s no longer, “I won’t grow up.” It’s more like, “OK, I’ll grow up, as long as I can still throw up once a weekend.” I think the answer is simple: because we can. The world is changing. Getting married in your twenties is no longer the norm – in fact, those unfortunate souls who do are now outcasts, scorned and shunned, spit on and kicked to the side of the road by the rest of us single folk. And that means we now have more time to live our lives the way we want to and, most importantly, have evolved the ability to do so while still excelling in the adult world. People ask me all the time how long I can continue calling myself a recovering frat guy. Those people are usually sober and annoying. And my response is always the same: “Who the f*ck are you?”
Some people move into the real world more easily than others.
you to sympathize with them and it is a romantic comedy and both couples need to get together and live happily ever. So, it follows Tobie’s attempts to win Elaine back and tracks Rebecca’s troubles at work. In any normal situation, there’d be a solid guy or at least someone somewhat normal somewhere which would start dating Elaine and that would be the end of it. But not here. Why? Because every other man completely sucks too. This is a movie of horrible horrible men at every turn. Rebecca (Julianne Moore) is surrounded at work by theater assholes and a young super sketchy cliche of an actor. Elaine tries to date two guys: one who’s a loud, long-haired musician hippie sketchball and another who is unintelligent German sprocket.
broadband, etc.), I’ve always thought that this is the time where the web begins to address and change the way people interact. This is the “social age” of the web which is why today’s internet successes aren’t necessarily computer scientists but marketers, anthropoligists, and others who create ways for users to talk, message, and truly interact. Look at how teenager’s interact with each other over IM – completely different than the days of calling each other on (gasp!) a landline. Just imagine how people will interact once there’s a social networking for everyone.
wanted that feeling for real. They want men to adore them like Lloyd Dobbler, and men want women to think like Aimee Mann, and everyone expects all their arguments to sound like Sam Malone and Diane Chambers. They think everything will work out perfectly in the end, and they don’t stop believing, because Journey’s Steve Perry insists we should never do that. In the 19th century, teenagers merely aspired to have a marriage that would be better than that of their parents; personally i would never be satisfied unless my marriage was a good as Cliff and Clair Huxtable’s (or at least as enigmatic as Jack and Meg White)…. 
there is something profound about having a relationship based on witty conversation and intellectual discourse. There isn’t. It’s just another gimmick, and it’s no different than wanting to be with someone because they’re thin or rich or the former lead singer of Whiskeytown. And, it actually might be worse, because an intellectual relationship isn’t real at all. My witty banter and cerebral discourse is always completely contrived.
which is actually much more fun than it sounds. They give you a shotgun, a guide and a dog. The dog runs out in front of you and points out a bird. You mosey up and kick the bush, the bird flies up and then the 3 of us would fire away. You're about 10 feet away and with a huge frickin' shotgun. Sounds easy doesn't it – well it's embarrassing how many got away. We just flat out suck.
Which makes me wonder, as i always have, how the hell did that game work. How does the game know where you're pointing the gun at the screen? Is it a reflection from the screen? That doesn't seem to make sense. Honestly, that was almost 20 years ago and it was AMAZING technology.