The year was 2000. _Smooth_ was the number hit of the millennium. Frosted tips as far as the eye could see. Girls in short shorts and bare midriffs wearing chokers and way too much lipstick dominated college parties.
But how would I know? I was just a lame freshman. My friends and I were taking turns on one of their GameCubes or playing DnD (this is before it was cool). I didn’t go to parties.
Then I formed that crush. You know the one. The one that changes you. The one that makes you adventurous against all instincts. You start doing stupid shit just to get her attention.
Her name was Alison. She was tall, had shoulder length dark, almost black, hair. She had these adorable freckles across her nose. Her eyes were startlingly blue. I said she was tall, but she was 6′ tall. She was thin, too, probably no more than 130-140lbs.
Alison could cuss like a sailor. She smoked, pot and cigarettes. She wasn’t anything you’d expect a girl to act like. We had a class together and we’re put on a project, and I know this is gonna make me sound all forever alone-ish, but I thought I fell in love with her. I know now that I fell in love with the _idea_ of her, but it is what it is.