The day I fell in love with Jordan Smith.

I’m at my sort-of boyfriends’s 21st birthday party, it’s a house party, held in a shed out the back that they fondly call Club Doobie Erotica- cool name; and it’s a sweet set up to say the least: sound system, strobe light, lasers, smoke machine, everything required to get a party started. The alcohol situation is in the most part taken care of by the individuals themselves, however, a keg is readily available and a strange guy is walking around with one of those giant weed spraying things on his back, squirting punch into willing participant’s mouths. After drinking nearly a whole bottle of vodka to myself, I easily forget rules of hygiene and regardless of the number of mouths that have previously suckled at the weed spraying tube, I’m eager to have a taste. My recollection of the night is sketchy to be benevolent, and I’m glad to say I don’t remember it all. However, I’m glad to have some sort of memory of the strange punch man. Now, when I say ‘strange’ I mean it in the nicest way possible. Strange in the way that he’s unlike people I’m accustomed to spending time with. For some reason, I’m standing here talking to him. And I don’t remember the words that were exchanged, but I remember thinking “this guy is incredible”. I look at his face. He’s very handsome. He has a kind face. Eyes full of pain. And when he smiles, his entire face turns into the funniest joke you’ve ever heard. He is contagious.
Somehow, we end up together in the shed. I’m embarrassingly drunk, my motor skills are decrepit and what I think is sexy is more shameful. Over the sound of the speakers, we manage a conversation and I remember only one thing from it: “you’re beautiful.” The words give me something, they give me an identity for a single moment; and I forget about my kind-of boyfriend. I forget about the other people dancing around us, I forget about morals and good judgment and ethics and I lean forward, in a none-too romantic gesture forcing myself upon him and I kiss him. Was it a good kiss? I don’t remember. All I remember is that in that instant I fell in love with him. I fell in love with the strange punch distributor.