Two weeks ago, I stood in the Indiana University Tennis Center with a thousand of other talented, beautiful women counting down from ten to reveal where, and with who, we would be spending the next three and a half years.
Sorority recruitment, to say the least, was nowhere near to what I expected it to be. As I was standing outside our first house visit of twenty-three party in 18° weather, all I could think to myself was, “what in the hell was I thinking?” And then they opened the double doors and the rest is history. By the end of sixteen party, I had about twelve new girl crushes, blistered feet and borderline hypothermia. I was having conversations with girls I had met three minutes prior that I would not even think about having with my best friend of ten years. I was falling in love with the dedication, heart and sisterhood that these women carried around within them. I learned about numerous philanthropies that I did not even know existed and was overwhelmed by the remarkable impact that these sororities on just one campus have managed to make on their charities.
Two weeks ago, I cried for an hour knowing that all of this meant not living six doors down from my best friend anymore and it cleared the denial I was in about ever having to move off of Bordner 300 and out of 312.
Cutting down from twenty-three houses, to sixteen, to nine and then to three was simple. On preference day, I walked up to a big white house, in a silky, blush slip dress and some strappy black heels and I was scared shitless. I am not the kind of girl who has her life together, there is no chance of me pulling off a pair of tan Timbs and my liver cannot handle the unlimited Takka supply of sweaty frat basements. But when I walked into the big white house, I knew right away I didn’t need any of those things to be accepted. I knew I would be supported when I was crying over my Chem 103 textbook and eight stacks of medical terminology flashcards, I knew I would be complemented when I walked into a pair wearing my Target fur moccasins and I knew I would always have a friend who wanted to stay in and order Z&C with me on a Saturday night. From the moment I walked into the big white house on North Jordan, it was game over.
Two weeks ago, I held my bid envelope in my hands, more nervous that I ever expected to be. For the first time in my life I was about to be handed over a hundred girls who would be my side every day for the rest of my college years and ultimately, the rest of my life. With shaky hands, I opened an envelope that invited me to be a member of Alpha Chi Omega at Indiana University. I hugged my best friend, crying because we would officially be neighbors next semester and ran over to meet my new, dare I say it, sisters of AXO.
Over the last two weeks, I have shared cheesy bread, chasers and futons with my new pledge class and I have bonded with some of the most genuine, funny and unique girls that I am probably too lucky to know. I have learned that you cannot “do college” by yourself and that I now have a whole house that will love me unconditionally and continuously better me as a person.
So here is to the long nights, the unforgettable nights and the nights we have already forgotten. Here is to having Pizza X on speed dial and the eyebrow raise that translates to “extra ranch.” Here is to Clard, the snack room, and Annie and Claire’s brutal honesty, endless support and questionably flirty (or threatening) comments towards each other. Lastly, here is to PC ‘17 and to being an Alpha Chi… until we die.