Sorority Sponsors

I’ve been a college professor for nearly my entire adult life. I have taught a wide spectrum of courses in the fields of literature, writing, and English. But this series of stories isn’t about that. This series of stories is about another of my university responsibilities. For twenty years of my career I served as the lone male sponsor of a university sorority. This series of stories are the semi-true accounts of those years of being the only male in the room for all manner of venerable ritual designed to take strangers and turn them into sisters and some of the long time friendships that I was blessed with as well. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. I will tell the stories out of sequence, following no particular timeline. What you may have determined by now, if you’ve read my other works, I have ambivalent moral standards when it comes to sexual congress. Taboo is only a fragrance to me. I don’t hold the notion that sex is morally right or wrong. Sex isn’t morally anything. Sex is the physical expression of desire. And it’s damn fun.

This is the story of my first affair.

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It wasn’t unusual for a student to request an appointment to discuss their coursework. I kept regular office hours so students could come in and receive help and advice between class sessions. When Micki Andrews knocked on my door jamb, I waved her right in. She was followed by two other female students I didn’t know.

“Professor David, this is Karen and Kristen. They are my sorority sisters. We have a question to ask you.” I was more than a little familiar with the workings of our universities Greek Fraternities and Sororities. Each fall we had to suffer through a week of distractions and interruptions during Rush Week as the pledges were put through their embarrassing paces in order to curry favor with the upperclassmen of their organizations. “We’d like to ask you a big favor.”

I made a steeple of my fingers and raised one eyebrow in a particularly bemused posed and replied simply,
“Yes?”

“We’d like you to be our sponsor.”

“And what would that entail? Cash? Bail money? Beer runs?” They all laughed.

“No Professor, you’d be the sponsor for our sorority. You’d sit in on our council meetings and give us advice and guidance on difficult matters and be our contact with the University faculty,” Kristen replied, almost shyly. “You’d be the first man to sponsor a sorority at this school. Ever. We think you’d be really cool and we love your sense of humor. We know it’s a big time commitment, but we really try to make it worth your while. For your wife too.”

“As much as I am honored by your request….” I started to try and demure.

“Before you say ‘no’, please take the night to think about it. Talk to your wife. The invitation is for both of you. It would be ideal if your wife could be the co-sponsor. She wouldn’t have your official responsibilities, but as a woman she would have some helpful perspectives we might grow from.” They were certainly adept at both the hard and soft sell, massaging my ego and laying out a compelling argument at the same time.

“Ok, ok! I’ll THINK about it. Stop by tomorrow and I will give you my answer.” The three young women all graced me a quick hug and big smile.

“Thank you Professor. Thank you!” They bounced out of my office like I had said ‘Yes’. I had time to consider what they had asked for a short time before another student knocked. And this student had a real topic to discuss and I put the request out of my mind, having already decided to decline.

When I got home I had a nice relaxing supper with my relatively new bride. We’d only been married three years and our kids hadn’t begun to arrive yet. It still felt like we were on our honeymoon. We were on the deck overlooking the back yard listening to some old jazz on my real record player and sipping on a pretty average Bordeaux. The front door rang and my wife went to answer. A few moments later the music stopped, getting my full attention. When I turned to look why, Kay was standing by my old hi-fi stereo surrounded by a room full of coeds.

“Did you forget to ask me something?” Kay asked with a suppressed smile.

“Before you make your decision, we thought we would come over and show you what you are entitled to as our sponsors. Please sit back while we show you what we can do.” Kay and I took seats next to each other on the couch while five girls with angelic voices began to serenade us with their sorority songs. The other twenty girls spread out in our house and began to clean. They cleaned everything from top to bottom. In half an hour our small starter home was cleaner than it had ever been.

Micki, Karen and Kristen took the floor and the rest of the sorority sat down wherever they could find room for their tight little behinds. “Sigma Epsilon Xi was chartered in 1871, the year after the founding of our university. It is the only fraternity or sorority that has been in continuous existence since founding,” began Micki.

“Our letters stand for Strength, Excellence, and Fidelity,” added Karen, to the titters of her sisters.

“We twenty five sisters formally invite you, Professor and Mrs. David, to be our official sponsors for a period of time as you deem fitting.” The other girls cheered and clapped and stomped in unison while chanting “Sig Ma zzEYE! Sig Ma zzEYE! Sig Ma zzEYE!”

Kay glowed with the adulation. She turned to me, eyes sparkling. As usual, the eyes have it. I held up my hand.

“All right, all right. If I say yes, can we go back to listening to jazz and drinking wine?” There was a huge screaming response as Sigma Xi got what they wanted. As usual. I stood and motioned for silence. “Ok, you have to go now. It’s late and I have an early morning. It’s an honor to be asked and it will be a pleasure to do what we can for SIG MA zzEYE!” They all cheered and clapped but eventually they filed out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention their request earlier. Frankly I had intended to tell them no tomorrow and didn’t think for one second you’d be interested,” I said to my wife as we got ready for bed.

“If they hadn’t come by and made such a big show of asking, I doubt I would have wanted to do it or even let you do it,” replied Kay with candor. “But they seemed so eager to have us I couldn’t say no. If it doesn’t work out, we can always resign and go back to being just Paul and Kay David again. But having them clean the house was a really nice gesture. It’s so clean!”

A clean house must be some kind of aphrodisiac because Kay treated me to a night of passion we usually reserved for special occasions. I awoke the next day more tired than when I had gone to sleep.
Being a sorority sponsor had its ups and downs. Some of my colleagues gave me funny looks when they found out I was a sorority sponsor, but they eased up their judgment when they discovered Kay was also involved. It made me look less like a lecher I guess. In our first year we dealt with many issues. Most came up at the sorority meetings held every Sunday night at 10 pm and often stretched into the early morning hours of Monday. The meeting agenda was always Old Business, New Business, Greek Council, Sister Brags, and finally Sister Rags. The first three items were routine operational discussions. Sister Brags were about telling what good fortune had occurred over the previous week. Honors, great grades, engagements etc. There was always good news to discuss.

Sister Rags was the opposite. It was a time for the girls to air their grievances. These were fewer for sure, but they were the most difficult to deal with. They covered everything from borrowing without permission, to sleeping with another sister’s boyfriend. It didn’t matter the issue brought up during Sister Rags, it was always an emotional time. I only occasionally spoke during the meetings and only a handful of times in twenty years did I speak without being asked a direct question. My role as sponsor and advisor allowed me to overrule any mistakes they might make, but I didn’t take sides. The first time I spoke was after a three hour discussion about a boy. The long discussions were always about a boy. Two girls were fighting over who got to keep him and we were getting nowhere. I observed the discussion and realized there were three girls out of the twenty-five present who hadn’t offered an opinion. I cleared my throat.

“This has gone on long enough. First, I need not remind you that NO man is worth tearing apart the Sisterhood.” Heads drooped in shame. “Second, this particular young man in question isn’t worth three MINUTES of discussion, let alone three HOURS.” Heads turned toward me. I could see they were waiting on the explanation.

“I am calling for a heads down vote.” They looked at me with surprise.

“What are we voting on?” asked Kristen.

“When you all put your heads down, you will find out,” I assured them. They responded by putting their heads down and closing their eyes. This was how the sorority reached decisions when they wanted to be anonymous so they didn’t hurt feelings. I knew it was how they blacklisted potential pledges and they understood the implication.

“Show of hands, NO PEEKING NOW, show of hands, how many of you have slept with this Ben Allman or know of more than two sisters who have?” Twenty two hands crept up. “Show of hands, NO PEEKING NOW, show of hands, how many of you think that NO Sigma Xi should date or sleep with Ben Allman?” All twenty five hands shot up. “Hands down, the vote is over.”

Kay, who never spoke to the group, delivered the results. “Ben Allman is a creep and a player. He isn’t worth your time or affection. He is black listed. Any sister who dates or sleeps with him now risks being placed into alumni status.” Alumni status is where they put you when they don’t want you around but they won’t sever your ties to the sorority. You don’t come back from alumni status.
There were more than a couple surprised faces in the crowd.

“If there is no other business,” stated Micki, “we are adjourned.”

The next day Kristen Mitchell knocked on my door. “Can I come in Professor?”

“Of course. Take a seat.”

“Do you mind if I shut the door. At least most of the way?” I nodded. I have a rule about leaving the door open a crack when I am alone with a student, particularly a coed. I watched a few of my colleagues get accused of all kinds of improprieties over the years and didn’t need any reason for my name to be drug through the mud. Kristen left a gap of two inches. Open enough to see in, closed enough to keep our conversation private.

“What’s on your mind Kristen? Is it boys or sisters?” Since I didn’t have her in class, it had to be one of those two subjects.

“Actually Professor, it’s both.”

“OK, begin where you’d like.”

“Elections are coming up…. What would you think of me becoming President?”

“I think it’s a great idea, but you are only a sophomore. Isn’t a junior usually asked to run?”

“Yes, usually. But there are only six juniors returning next year. Karen is in pre-med and said she wants and easy office. Julie is studying abroad first semester, so she’s out. Anna wants to be vice so she can be president of the Greek Council. Libby wants to be Saint. Elle and Jamie are both doing varsity sports and don’t have the time.