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Her erratic screams shook the hallway, pied-pipering in a crowd of concerned girls. In a flash it unfolded: Her Tigers had just worked the Bluegrass Miracle.

Imagine then, trying to explain to your fellow female Tulane students that your roommate pierced the quiet with her excitement because of LSU football. They couldn’t understand. And frankly, neither did I.

I still don’t.

This roommate of mine, Leila Labens, did take me to my one-and-only LSU football experience. It was a spring game, sometime in beginning years of the 21st century. We left the game early, not wanting to dedicate an entire day to watching LSU play itself.

Yep, that’s right. My name is Marissa Frayer and I’m an LSU football virgin.

I grew up in Baton Rouge, graduated from LSU (Tulane was a stopover of sorts) and have never so much as even “really” tailgated.

I’ll offer my apologies upfront, sorry that I have never embraced this fine community marrow. If I was ever on campus for game day it was a trip to the library (often closed). I don’t own a single piece of LSU football paraphernalia and I never will.

My family is from Michigan, and none of my siblings graduated from LSU. Nobody I hang out with seems to care about LSU football, either. I don’t know any of the players, and grilled meat really isn’t my bag.

I’m struggling here, trying to articulate just why I don’t care whilst avoiding prepping myself for tarring and feathering. I’m not here to criticize or judge. I’m a big “whatever floats your boat” sort of person.

But I know. I get it. You’re a Tiger, just like that creepy Cane’s billboard of the striped dog. But don’t bother telling me the score, or even if “we” won. Hey, it’s even OK to laugh at me when I ask “What year did LSU win that thing?” Just please don’t look at me like I’m missing out on some cosmic secret when I can’t make small talk about LSU football.

Let’s just keep rolling with the “to each their own” philosophy and we can peacefully co-exist: Those who bleed purple and gold and those who don’t. Last time I checked, I was operating courtesy of some funny reddish/brown goop. I kind of like it that way.

Marissa Frayer is a regular 225 contributor and Business Report’s StartUp editor. She can be reached at mfrayer@businessreport.com.