Ghosts of New Year’s Eve Past
New Year’s Eve has been one of the biggest let downs of life as an adult (along with working a real job, having a real relationship & having a credit card). When I was a teenager, I just imagined that my New Years’ Eve would involve shindigs of the Paris Hilton variety: being in the club, in the VIP, drinks on me (or rather, drinks on YOU), etc, etc. Instead, New Year’s Eve has usually involved me being guilt tripped into hanging out with my family and quietly getting drunk in a corner while the 8 billion children in my family run around, high on Pepsi.
The first time I had a solo New Year’s was when I went to visit my Canadian boyfriend (and yes, he did exist!) and my mother was INCREDIBLY pissed at me for a variety of reasons, mostly involving a certain medication I was taking to prevent pregnancy and the reasons for taking such pills and the fact that I was leaving her to go spend days unsupervised with some dude (and thus necessitating such pills).
Well, she kind of won that one because my new year’s that year consisted of me accompanying him to a house party full of boys who thought playing video games and watching others play such games was acceptable party behavior (this was before the Wii, of course). I remember standing outside in the cold after the party was over, waiting for him to get the car and looking up at another house party where they were blasting Destiny’s Child’s hit “Say My Name” and wanting, so badly, to be there instead in a room full of what I’m sure where my people: gay guys and women who know that it’s not a party until you listen to some cheesy pop music. He dropped me off at the hotel and went to do more lame partying while I watched Law and Order into the wee hours of the morning. When he finally came back, he tried to kiss me reeking of Alize (we were 19). I pushed him away, thinking: bitch, please. I came all the way from New York City, you take me to some terrible party full of losers and now you want to try to get with me reeking of 14 year old girl booze? No way.
This year, it was good. Full of laughter and cheer and good feeling. No kissing, but that always felt trite to me anyway, and just like I can’t be having some dude trying to get up on me reeking of Boone’s Farm or whatever, I can’t be having no triteness.
2 Comments