In the kingdom of Alpha Phi Omega service fraternity, Big/Little is upon us. Our poor coordinator has outmatched eHarmony by miles. Piecing together sporty bigs with sporty littles and avoiding the outdoorsman/ mallcrawler pair. No, shopaholics will stick together if she has anything to say about it. The shy pledges won’t be overwhelmed (just yet) with the more boisterous of the pack and the social butterflies won’t have to peel their Big from the wall to join the party. It’s almost like Christmas, getting to see who you’ll be calling (once you get to know one another) at 2 am for an IHOP run or have golf-cart races with at different events. Last year was a total blast and I have no doubt this year will be the same.

Twas the night of Big/Little and all through the church,
Chaos erupted! Such gaiety! Such mirth;

The candles were lit in a ring of brotherhood,
In hopes they’d be held by pledges, someday soon;

The pledges were lined up snugly by family,
While visions of siblings made them chatter happily;

And Liz by the door and Jack with his beard,
Hoped warily that these kids weren’t too weird;

After the ceremony there arose such a clatter,
I’m surprised the cops didn’t call, to see what was the matter;

Around the gym they spun like a top,
On roller-skates, with basketballs, the dancing never stopped;

The moon rose quietly across the Norman sky
With all the fun being had, no wonder how time did fly,

But all of the sudden a brightly-lit screen caught my eye,
Nimble fingers, fear among them was none, no,
Instantly I knew it must be Guitar Hero;

More rapid than raindrops the notes they did play,
The crowd whistled and shouted the chords as they came;
“The blue one! The green one! The orange and red buttons too!
Now tilt your guitar you’ll win if you do!
To the top of the meter! To the top of the charts!
You could quit your day job, no more pushing carts!”

As the night progressed, the hunger pangs grew
Luckily for us, there was chocolate fondue;

So to the kitchen all the barbarians flew
Where marshmallows waited just for them to chew;

By this time the poem was reaching its end
After all, who has the attention span to read to “Le Fin”

But to all Alphas, Phis and Omegas on that magical night,
“Thanks for the party, you guys are alright.”

Disclaimer: I do not own the poem "The Night Before Christmas"

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Get some.

At 4am I’d just gotten back to bed after consoling a drunken roommate who’d found out (for the second+ time) her boyfriend had been cheating on her. It was apparently one of those things everyone else had seen coming but she refused to acknowledge. He had problems being open with his friends about his relationship status with her and regularly pitched fits in public situations because she “embarrassed” him. He would invite her over, to parties, etc. then spend the evening locked up in a room with another girl…but somehow she has deluded herself into thinking this was something that was supposed to last.

We spent over three hours listening, comforting and feeding this girl before we tucked her in bed. The next morning, which came all too soon, we found her bed empty. Guess where she was? “Sleeping off” last night’s hysterics at the jerk’s apartment. The night before she could hear what he and his new friend were doing behind a locked door but apparently it wasn’t enough to keep her away from Mr. Charming.

She buys him food on a regular basis, does his laundry, and I don’t want to know what else. For what? To be toted around as a back-up plan in case there aren’t enough slutty girls at the party.

I see a lot of girls like her. They live to serve their boyfriend and don’t understand why they aren’t respected by them. She stayed in here this summer to be with him and was considering taking a job here after graduation to be close until he was finished with school. I have many theories why she and girls like her end up like this: low self-esteem, need for constant validation, loneliness and desperation. But it also seems to be the ones who have the most going for them. In all other areas of their lives, they appear to be cool and collected. Then comes a smooth talker and it’s all downhill from there.

What I want to know though, is if there are guys like this or if this is a strictly female phenomenon? Are there guys who will take multiple situational beatings and tell people they are in love? I’m not talking about guys who take crap from their girlfriends but still act made for each other at the end of the day, I’m talking about putting up with cheating and numerous rejections from their girlfriends.

I also want to know what goes on in the mind of the guys that accept big gifts, favors (of all sorts) and affection, then act disgusted when the girl acts like they have a connection/relations. Surely, they can’t be heartlessly leading on random girls for sex and clean laundry….right? Whose fault is it, in the end? The girl who bent over backwards for a guy who displayed little affection? The guy who didn’t stop the girl when he knew he didn’t want her?

I’m tired of seeing girls that don’t stick up for themselves or value themselves enough to realize they could do so much better. It worries me to think this might be something in the female brain or social training that we are supposed to be co-dependant or self-sacrificing for the sake of having a relationship. It can’t be all of us, I myself tend to be categorized in the opposite direction, but more and more of these girls are popping out of the woodwork.

And counting...

17 more days. By the time I post this it will probably be 16. My boyfriend has already been in Afghanistan for almost five months, so two and a half weeks shouldn’t even register. But as the last countdown begins, it gets harder not to have him around. Seeing guys in uniform walk across campus now catches me off guard every time. I’m sure they wonder why the weirdo on the other side of the oval is squinting determinedly at them. Is she trying to turn them into someone else?

Yes, but it hasn’t happened just yet. She’s working on finding the magic words as we speak.

It didn’t feel like this in the beginning. The months stretched out forever. While I still missed him, nothing would change for some time. The only thing to do was forget about him for the summer and see if I still liked him when he got back. We hadn’t been dating long enough to make any promises, so it seemed like a good plan.

After it became evident that the phone conversations weren’t going to get any less frequent and the letters began to fill pages, the plan gave up. Then it was a matter of stamina. How long can we keep this up? Five months, apparently. All the while it gets harder to hang up and go back to studying for a test that does not make the days go by any faster.

Now the end is in sight but just out of reach. Nervous excitement permeates my daily life; I’m almost expecting him to be sitting on my couch when I get back from class with an amused smile that clearly says, “surprise.”

Something that keeps floating around in my brain is the fact that we’ve gotten to know each other extremely well over the summer. We reached a level of trust much quicker that we would’ve if he’d stayed here. It all happened over the phone or in letters, though.

It’s interesting how much easier it is to be open when you can’t see the other person’s reaction. We’ve become so comfortable with each other in a long-distance relationship, I cannot help but wonder how that will translate once he is a physical presence in my life again. We’re almost different people in our writing and over the phone, how much work will it take to reconnect the face with the words?

Ideally, we have waited too long to see each other again to let it be a barrier for more than a few hours. Realistically, though, it may take weeks, maybe months, to regain a comfort level with someone I’m used to being gone.

I’ll have to wait 16 more days to find out.

Am I growing OLD or growing UP?

It isn't hard to enjoy growing at my age. I can wear those ratty old jeans that my mother condemned years ago. I can stay out all night, or all weekend, if the mood strikes me. I can eat cake for breakfast and have pizza for dessert. Getting older, at this point, is great.

Then there are little reminders that I'm supposed to be maturing as each birthday passes. I'm supposed to be ready for separation from my best-friends-since-middle-school. I shouldn't be so concerned about the fact that one has just moved to Hawaii and I can't just show up at her door anymore. That's what happens when you grow up, right? People's interests change and they leave.

I recognize that moving as a fact of life, but I still haven't come to terms with the number of weddings I've been to or the engagements I've witnessed over the past year. Two friends have been "dropped" (the Greek equivalent of a promise ring) and three more with actual promise rings. One new bride is already pregnant after her one-year anniversary. She'll have her first child before she can have her first beer.

I have a friend who explained the madness the best. Or maybe she's the best example of the madness. Regardless, she has set up her future as a simple math problem. We start backwards with the fact that she wants to be finished having kids when she is thirty. So, we'll say that from age 28-30 she's having babies. Now, she will also make sure she's had at least two years of marital bliss before the children arrive. So she will be around 26 at her wedding. But, she isn't just going to rush into love, she wants time to make sure he's the one. 3-5 years for a thorough background check and compatibility test. My friend must then meet the man of her dreams by the time she is 23, at the latest. This doesn't factor in all the Mr. Wrongs that inevitably show up in your life just to slow you down.

Maybe I'm still immature, but I'm beginning to feel like I chased some bizarre little bunny down the wrong rabbit hole. I don't belong here, among the first houses and new spouses. I'm only now getting to know a guy I can see myself dating past Christmas. For me, that's a huge step. In my eyes, I'm growing up.

We're all supposed to be different and therefore incapable of making the same decisions at the same time, but when your clubbing friends are busy making dinner for their families on Friday night you have to wonder if there is a secret age for adulthood. When should growing old and growing up coincide?