The frat dance party is a uniquely disgusting experience, and a pretty integral part of freshman year. Every night out during your first semester at the College of William and Mary seems to feature the best party ever, and the Units have their own special appeal that set them apart from the average house party.
Meeting new people. Dancing on coffee tables while belting out Miley Cyrus. As a freshman girl, you’re getting tons of attention from guys. If it’s before fraternities give out bids, then, as a freshman guy, you’re also getting plenty of male attention. All in all, this doesn’t make dance parties sound that bad.
But when you finally make your way downstairs to the dance floor, you are faced with reality. You know the truth the second you walk through the basement door and hit a wall of hot, sweat-soaked air. I remember first encountering the tropical frat jungle and thinking to myself, “I might have just made a huge mistake.” But at that point I was trapped in a crowd of freak-dancing Greeks and gawking townies. It was too late to turn back. I was lodged, inescapabley, in the foul armpit of the units.
Drenched in sweat, naturally, everyone reeks. Most people at this school can’t dance to save their lives, but this doesn’t deter anyone. A cramped mass of people grinding like there is no tomorrow define the dance, the closest comparison I can think of is probably a Roman orgy. In a lot of ways, dance parties are only an excuse to find an easy hookup. I almost wish people would be a little more honest with their intentions and just start taking their clothes off on the dance floor.
The saddest part of dance parties is how they lead to so many hook-ups by creating perfect conditions for an easy transition from chatting to boning. The art of seduction has been reduced to some wasted frat guy coming up behind you and rubbing his crotch on your butt without even introducing himself. Sexy.
And then there’s that freaky couple in the corner. You know who I’m talking about. The way those two are dancing is not fooling anyone; if they are that serious about grinding, you are witnessing a walk of shame in the making. The best part of watching these couples is realizing that they probably have no idea who they’re even dancing with. But man, they are dry humping like this is the hottest body to body contact they have ever encountered. And actually, because this is the College, that might be pretty accurate.
However, the lowest of the low at any dance party is, unquestionably, the dance floor make out, or DFMO. This phenomenon could be described as the most shameful moment of your life. You’re sweaty; your body is rubbing up against at least four other people, not including the person you’re dancing with. This is beyond even the most embarrassing public display of affection, but you don’t care as you suck face with wild abandon — aggressively making out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No regrets.
No regrets that is until the next morning. You wake up, hungover, and go to the Commons with the other frat rats on your freshman hall, because Caf brunch is another irreplaceable part of freshman year. You and your friends dress like bums, eat mass quantities of french fries and share hilarious stories of complete mortification from the night before. However, the morning after a DFMO, the Caf can be a very dangerous place: it is a law of nature that you will inevitably run into last night’s partner.
The awkward Caf moment occurs when you are faced with the harsh reality of your terrible life decisions. Despite this, you walk by this guy or girl with as much dignity as you can muster. You might ignore each other, or offer a half-hearted smile or wave. I tend to favor blatantly turning around and walking in the opposite direction. Either way, you think to yourself, “That was uncomfortable, but I handled it well. I was totally casual.” Too bad for you the Caf is shaped like a circle, and you will be running into this person three more times in the next 15 minutes. It’s enough to horrify you, but not enough to stop you from doing the same thing next weekend.
Regardless of the obvious drawbacks of dance parties, they do serve a very important purpose: they give all the sexually repressed and socially awkward students on this campus an easy outlet for their frustration. So, way to go, units. Thanks for keeping it classy.
__Kelsey Werner is a Flat Hat guest sex columnist and sex blogger. Check out her blog at www.flathatnews.com/dailygrind.__
