I’d been kicking this idea around ever since Stone Foltz died as a result of fraternity-rush-related alcohol overconsumption. Though I’ve never seen the appeal of greek (with a small “g”) life, following the trial of the fratboys involved in his death has softened me somewhat on the idea that Foltz was forced to drink himself to death, that he might have had more agency in the matter than was first thought.
That said, I still don’t and never will understand the idea of wanting so badly to fit in to a frat or any other social agglomeration that I’d risk my health and life to do it.
And the fratboys and former fratboys I’ve had to deal with in my post-college life have left me, in the main, underwhelmed.
I’ve been given my share of backhand and sideways compliments in my life, but I think my favorite was when a fellow school newspaper alum and friend turned to me at an alumni homecoming lunch gathering (an unofficial one, of course; a handful of us were ducking the formal festivities) and said: “You never _did_ give a sh!t what other people thought of you, did you?”