Frat Life

Your lifelong membership
Is free
Keep a-giving each brother all
You can
Oh, aren't you proud to be
In that fraternity
That great big brotherhood of man

--How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying

Before I get into today's topic -- my brief life as frat guy -- I'd like to appeal to those of you blog geeks out there, especially anyone who uses Blogger to publish. As you have no doubt noticed, I have been trying to spruce up Sanktastic a bit of late, especially since I've been posting a whole helluva lot more. In doing so, I would also like to monetize the site to its fullest. At the moment, I use only two ad services: Google Adsense, which earns literally only pennies per month for me, and Text Link Ads.

I actually like TLA, but unfortunately, most of its advertisers seem to have no interest in me and my li'l ol' blog. At the moment, I have only one sponsor through that site, which is Pride Dating. And although I am extremely grateful to Pride Dating (and encourage you to click on their link on the right-hand side of this page), I'd like more sponsors. Like a lot more. I registered today with Blogads, and I hope that that will lead to additional revenue streams. But if anyone out there has any suggestions or recommendations for me, please don't be shy. Mama needs a new pair of shoes. And a new kitchen and a bunch of other stuff.

OK, moving on.

So yes, I was in a fraternity, a fact which for some reason seems to shock a lot of people. I don't understand why. To me, there's nothing as homoerotic as the idea of a bunch of young, preppy guys living in an all-male environment, sleeping in close quarters, showering together and paddling one another while drunk and naked. If you don't believe me, check out this NSFW Adults-Only site .

Which is not to say I personally experienced any of those things. I'm just pointing out that they do tend to happen in a fraternity environment.

In fact, my own fraternity experience was the opposite of homoerotic -- which is how I intended it be --  although its origins were indeed a little faggy.  Freshman year at Michigan, I took an upper-level theater history course, which was really quite wonderful. Part of the class was about the physical history of theater -- the architecture, the lighting and sound techniques and so forth. I was less interested in this section than I was in the history of theater as an art form. To study this, we read classic plays, including works by Molière, John Gay, Oscar Wilde and George Bernard Shaw.

Also taking the course with me was  a hilariously funny and boisterous upperclasswoman named Jules. Jules sat next to me, and, when our professor got particularly dull describing some 19th century light filament, we would play x-rated Hangman, passing sheets of notebook paper back and forth.

A game in progress might have looked something like this:

You will never know how long it took me to create this image.

Jules and I eventually became friends outside of class, especially after we were both cast in the Michigan Union's production of "Best Little Whorehouse in Texas." I got the tiny part of Edsel, the town newspaper reporter. Jules was a whore. I don't remember which whore, but I do remember she had one solo line in the song "Li'l Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place." The way that song works is, during the "Miss Mona's rules" section, one whore sings or speaks a line and then calls on the next whore to sing or speak the next line.

Jules's line was: "And it don't make money. Beatrice?" And then Beatrice starts singing, and so forth.

Well, what Jules would do is go: "And it don't make money. Beatriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice?," effectively cutting off the poor girl playing Beatrice's line completely. I cannot explain how hard this made me laugh every single time.

Here's the movie version, with the "rules" section coming in at 2:06.

Dolly says Jule's line.

Fun fact about our little production: Jennifer Perry played Miss Mona, Hunter Foster played a football player and Miriam Schor played a whore. All three have gone on to distinguished acting careers on Broadway and beyond. In related news, I'll be hosting the YMCA's Good News Gala in Summit, NJ, next month.

Boy, this story has really run off the track, hasn't it? Nobody ever accused me of being succinct.

Anyway, at that time Jules had a boyfriend who ended up becoming her husband (and later ex-husband): Steve. I had met Steve a few times after theater history class, and more often after rehearsals for "Whorehouse." Steve was -- and is -- one of the warmest, sweetest guys I have ever known. He shared Jules's goofy sense of humor, and the three of us used to hang out for hours, laughing ourselves silly.

The second semester of my freshman year, Steve convinced me to rush his fraternity: Chi Psi.

People called us "Chipsies."

I had never planned to rush. Fraternities to me represented everything that ran contrary to my nature: Conformity, narrow-mindedness, misogyny, and an emphasis on athletics and beer. (I cannot now nor have I ever been able to drink beer. It tastes awful and makes me feel like I'm going to explode.)

In fact, I had chosen to reside my Freshman year in East Quad, undoubtedly the artsiest, crunchiest, most anti-fraternity dorm on Michigan's campus. And I loved it there. But lingering underneath my happy Freshman veneer was the fear/knowledge that I was gay. And did not want to be.

Looking back now, my beliefs about homosexuality at the time mirrored those of today's right-wing homophobes and "ex-gay" proponents. I honestly believed that spending lots of time around straight guys and engaging in "straight" activities would keep my gayness in check, if not vanquish it outright. I even remember thinking I should start working out at the campus athletic center regularly, because doing so would keep me from thinking gay thoughts.

Oh, the irony.

And yes, one could argue that performing in musicals -- I did two my freshman year -- wasn't exactly playing poker and going to strip clubs. But my goal wasn't to change myself completely. I actually wanted to stay exactly who I was... minus the hankering for cock. And I thought maybe, just maybe, Chi Psi could be the answer.

To be continued.

Homo rushing. ♥