Patrick Vergara breaks down DKE’s bro rules.

Hipsters, hear this: I have never been to Modern Love. You have probably never been to a party at DKE. There are a lot of reasons why these things are true, but let’s not dwell on that now.

Suffice to say neither of us really understands the other terribly well. The scene section of the YDN really doesn’t help matters, but that’s something for another day. Banish these thoughts from your mind, because this Friday will mark a new era in Hipster-Fraternity Brother relations, when we (DKE) play host to the nomadic dance party you call Modern Love. I don’t know how this arrangement came to be, and frankly I don’t care. I do have a lingering suspicion, however, that it began—at least partially—as a joke. As a proud DKE brother, though, I wanted to take the time to offer my thoughts on the subject.

First of all, our houses are behind the gym, which is behind Morse. Don’t worry, you don’t have to go inside to get to the party. While our houses aren’t the prettiest places on campus, we love them and are excited to have you all over. Because I’m not really sure what you have heard about us, allow me to present a few basic facts: We have all shared a certain set of experiences that have had the end result of binding us together very tightly—we are all “bros” with each other, if you will. We even use the term “bro” (un-ironically); we love America (un-ironically); if it gets hot in the house, we are going to take our shirts off (un-ironically) but probably continue to sweat anyways (sadly, un-ironically). Go ahead, pee out of the first floor windows—it’s okay by us. And finally, the stuff in our mouths is called “dip,” and yes—you can definitely have a pinch of it if you want (obviously, ironically).

Most of all, we like to have fun. To be honest, we are all a little offended that hipsters haven’t been to DKE before—everyone’s invited. As a matter of fact, it is my personal hope that this cultural exchange will spark exchanges of another sort. Don’t be coy—you know exactly what I’m talking about. We’ve seen you looking at us, hipster girls, and I know you’ve caught us doing the same to you. Heteronormative, I know, but like most other DKE brothers, I don’t care much for terms like that and laugh to myself when you use them in section. But with the hope of sparking some excitement, I’m going to attempt to tell you what to expect.

First of all, we dress differently. You’re not going to see us wearing skinny jeans—we don’t fit in them. Also, shirtsleeves are generally considered optional. It’s not because we’re slobs—we genuinely hope you will find our arms at least as impressive as we do. Forgive us our untrendy footwear—sneakers are comfortable. Also, try and look past the baseball caps. Just shelve the hipster aesthetic for a night—think of it as an exercise in irony.

Second, let me just apologize on behalf of the fraternity in advance for partying. You’ll probably get jostled around, it will be cramped quarters in the house, and you might even be intimidated by the size of some of the brothers. I don’t really know how to help you get over that, but let me just say that just because a guy can clean 300 pounds doesn’t mean he’s not as sensitive as anyone else.

We’ve got our work cut out for us. As someone with many friends on both sides of the Hipster-Fraternity Brother spectrum, I know that it won’t be easy for many of you to bridge the gap. When the fraternity president first announced that we’d be hosting Modern Love a few weeks ago, most of the brothers didn’t know what it was. I explained it was a “hipster dance party,” to which one brother responded: “What’s a hipster?”

How has it come to this? We’ve got a real chance to make a difference come Friday, and I think that we should seize the opportunity to get to know each other better. Think of it as change you can believe in—keep in mind we are also mostly Republicans (un-ironically). Let’s dance together—be it to Cut Copy or to Eric Church—and maybe, if the feeling is right, even make some Modern Love.

Miranda Lewis makes hipsters accessible to all.

To the brothers of the Delta Kappa Epsilon Fraternity (Yale University Chapter),

I have set foot inside the walls of your home only once before. It was after a long search on a dark Camp Yale night that I found myself there. Someone told me it was near Payne Whitney, and in my shy freshman state I didn’t dare ask who “Payne Whitney” was (I know now that the person was directing me towards the University gymnasium and that William Payne Whitney graduated from Yale in 1898 and was a member of both Skull and Bones and your righteous fraternity). I walked inside with a firm grip on the arm of the girl in front of me. I don’t remember who she was, and it’s altogether possible we had never actually met in the first place.

We walked inside, and I don’t know about mystery girl, but as soon as I saw your towering figures (I’m only 5’ 2”, but still—brawn is more than just height), I turned around and never looked back.

This DKE experience has never been repeated, but this momentous Friday night, everything is going to change: I’m planning on turning over a new leaf, and I apologize for having been so judgmental. I’ve met a number of your brothers since (including your wonderful president), and I sincerely regret avoiding your establishment.

I’m excited for this new age of Hipster-Fraternity relations. It’s free love man; it’s modern love; it’s the fortieth anniversary of co-education at Yale; and let’s celebrate by showing the world how much we’ve progressed, because at the end of the day we all go to the same university, and we all love to party.

And you know what? We’re really not all that different! You like muscle tees? So do we! (Girls too! The more side-boob the better.) In spring we all like to chill on Old Campus, and we’re all pretty excited for Spring Fling. We look forward to Friday and Saturday (and Wednesday and Thursday, and occasionally Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday) just as much as you do. We both love bad beers (PBR for me, Keystone/Natty Light for you), and we all enjoy a nice game of beer pong. And we don’t listen to too much country, but we love folk, which is kind of the same thing and can get pretty patriotic (ironically). We can all rock like a wagon wheel together and if country music doesn’t bring us together, Miley Cyrus or Asher Roth surely will. Let’s party in the U.S.A. because you know as well I do that we all love college.

This Friday from M I D N I G H T to 4 A M, we will be joining you in your humble abode. You’re providing the space, but we’ll all be there together, and we’ll all be sweating. Because, yes, we do sweat under all those layers of black.

In that beady sweat, on the dance floor or next to the keg, let’s make a pledge. I’ll say hi to you, you say hi to me. I won’t scoff if you won’t shove. Offer me a beer, ask me to dance. Just a warning: Asking someone to dance is not the same thing as dancing behind me until I feel your sweaty front touching my sweaty back and then inching closer until your sweaty groin is touching my sweaty rear, because although this may work, let’s be civil. I want to remember your face so I can greet you the next time we see each other—hopefully at Modern Love.

Seriously, though, we’re all people. We’re all just made of atoms. We’re all college students. We all attend the same university and take the same gut science classes. We don’t go to the same parties, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. The words “hipster,” “frat bro,” and “football” get thrown around a lot. Let’s banish them from our vocabulary and just dance out our mutual disrespect on Saturday night. You probably know the benefits of a good purge just as much as we do.

As the night progresses and we’ve danced ourselves silly and our minds are getting so hazy that we don’t know if the person standing next to us is a friend, a foe, or a banister let’s forget our former misconceptions. If we can dance and sweat together, we can live together.