i love late nights and frat boys and cheap beer. the men you wouldn't normally give a second glance to all of a sudden rival the brad pitts and edward nortons: their faces more palatable and their muscles a bit more warm and inviting. yeah it's a friday morning and i could quite possibly be asleep right now considering i have an essay due in a few hours, but another drink won't hurt. it's not like i'd want to sleep in a frat house. so since my designated driver isn't fixated on leaving quite yet, i believe i'll let myself accept another can, another shot, another this another that. these boys are all right. they're gentlemen. i'll be fine, just another drink. 
loosen up, feel the music coming from that room down the hall. it's a thursday, the party isn't bumping, but the crowd is still there. brothers and a couple sorority girls dressed to the nines. there i am, dressed in nothing special. i know i'll go back home and sleep in the shirt i'm wearing because that's what it lends itself towards. sleeping in. it's a big shirt. bought from the men's section. ten percent off, a steal. 
they're sweet guys, offering me drinks like its their nine to five. but they don't mean anything by it. it's a "welcome to the house, we're a great frat, drink our juice, you're a lady and we're kind like that" kind of thing. they'd offer their jackets if they could. they'd pay for the movies and dinner, open car doors even if it's all the way over there. they'd make you smile and the night is young so they offer you another drink. 
chivalry is not dead.