Four years later, and I am a proud member of a University of Toronto fraternal organization.

I joined the frat for a variety of reasons, but I still hated the parties, or at least, attending the parties. As it turned out, so did much of the fraternity's membership. What I came to realize was that, for the Frat Boy, parties aren't about fun; they're about revenue.

True, some of my less discerning colleagues do enjoy the parties. And yes, they effectively guarantee we won't be sleeping alone that night. And sure, even shitty beer is beer – no one is denying the pros, but take a look at the cons.

We intentionally allow you and hundreds of complete strangers just like you to repeatedly ransack and ruin our homes through these morally bankrupt and decadent rituals of self-debasement. You think we'd do this if there wasn't a good buck in store?

The endless beer and loose women, those are just perks. What we want is your money, and we're willing to work for it.

The amount of effort that goes into one of these dirty little soirées would shock you. Ensuring the police can't make a warrantless search; lugging twelve kegs into attack formation; patrolling the grounds to making sure you sickos don't do anything you shouldn't; and let's not forget about cleaning up your every effulgence the morning after. Lord, the things I have seen the morning after…

Well, frosh week is here, and the U of T Greek Community is providing you with the opportunity to make some memories you'll spend the rest of your life trying to forget. If you partake, try to have fun. Hell, I’ll be on the front lines, helping you along. But if, like me, you find yourself wondering what fresh and exotic hell you’ve found yourself a part of, don't blame the frat boys.

For us, it's just business.