Before the kids, before the husband, before my need for Strivectin eye cream, I was a sorority girl. It was a very short, drunk chapter in my life, and I like to save it to shock the other punk-rock mothers at the health food store snack bar when things get too crunchy.

Though about half of my Zeta Tau Alpha sisters were Jewish, this was an anomaly for our University of Arizona chapter. I seem to have fuzzy memories of someone mentioning Jesus during initiation (the supersecret induction ceremony preceded by tequila shots) and I still can’t remember why I didn’t choose to join one of the two Jewish sororities on campus.

(That’s a lie. I remember, in spite of the boozin’, that one house was full of the snotty, spoiled young women who had ostracized me at TYG events all through high school and the other was known as “The Fat Ugly Brigade.” Forgive me for having no desire to align myself with either. I was 19 and had more interest in getting laid and pretending my way to a bachelor’s degree.)

It didn’t occur to me to look for a Jewish experience within Greek life; that’s what Hillel and going home for the High Holidays was for. But many do seek out Jewish fraternities and sororities as an extension of culture, religion and family. Tova Fructman of The Atlanta Jewish Times explores how “Greek Jews” walk the line between separating themselves from the rest of their college campus and accusations of “not being Jewish enough.” Some houses are considering adopting a heavier Jewish identity, while others insist on bacon for breakfast. Everyone agrees, however, that it’s an excellent way to find a Jewish mate.

As for me, I was only Greek for two semesters (as opposed to Jewish from birth ’til the day I die.) I got bored of keggers and boys who wore their golf visors backwards and discovered the fiction department and boys who wore black and listened to Bob Dylan. And ended up marrying a Jewish frat boy anyway.