There will always be a disgruntled GDI that whips out the “you paid for your friends” line during a debate with a Greek individual. It’s a cheap shot; a go to, if you will, nestled in the back pocket of their cargo shorts. It’s offensive, this “people only like you because you bought them” belief. I did not pay for my friends. Sure, there are perks: things like a shoulder to cry on or a late night cheese-fry delivery. But the actual friendships? Those are for realsies.
None of my sisters are licensed medical professionals, obvi. But for some reason, we all become “so sure that it’s not a concussion”. We are in no position to brandish medical advice, yet we do. There is always a cure at the bottom of a bottle, whether its drowning sorrows with wine or using frozen vodka as an ice pack. I paid good money for this medical advice, even though it usually ends with “let’s just webMD it”. By the way, NEVER webMD anything after midnight or after too many alcohols. You don’t have African Sleeping Sickness; it’s just a cold.
I’m terrible at math; thank God I have smart sisters. In the diverse group of ladies that surround you, there’s no reason you can’t excel at anything.
“What’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine” is in our creed. Well, not our real creed…but it should be.
A Personal Shopper:
“Can you grab some nail polish remover at CVS? Are you going to the grocery store? Can you please get me some coffee creamer?”
A Taxi Service:
Last night, I somehow convinced one of my roommates to drive a man-friend and myself to a casino. She did so, and even picked our drunk asses up later. The following morning, I was woken up with a phone call from this same roommate requesting a ride to the airport. It was 8am, I had a man in my bed. BUT, I rolled myself to the car and drove her ass there. There are an infinite number of sisters driving sisters around, even if they’re not happy about it at the moment. This taxi service has 130 different phone numbers and drives small SUVs.
A 24 Hour Buffet:
At least in my house, there is always someone eating something. Any time of the day, someone is down to cook or to raid the snack kitchen. No judgment, only food. I once walked in on someone shoveling MY leftovers into her blacked out mouth. I snapped a pic for blackmail and walked away.
In a state of delusion about your not-boyfriend? Come talk. It should be in everyone’s creed: “I promise to withhold judgment and to also hold your hand while you cry/vomit/scream about whatever.” Snuggles at any time of the night. Enough said. I’ve been convincing friends that “he’s probably working out” or “taking a nap” for years, instead of telling them that he’s not texting you back because HE SUX.
A Broadway Production:
I recently re-enacted the shower scene from “Elf” in which they sing “Baby it’s cold outside” with a roommate. After too many drinks, anyone is subject to burst into song at any given moment.
This list is endless, since anyone can morph into anyone/anything for a sister in need. In all the glory that surrounds Greek life, the ability to quite literally be there for a sister in need tops the list.