(Disclaimer: This post will not contain any sappy resolutions. I don’t do the touchy-feely stuff, so don’t worry.)
Tonight is New Year’s Eve and, as a result, the Ex, G, and I are on lock-down. No one may leave the house after 8 pm on what has to be the most dangerous night of the year, what with all the drunk drivers out. It may sound extreme, but I’m Jewish. Neurotic is how I roll.
In an effort not to be a complete fun-kill, I decided to create our own “party” at home with yummy appetizers, sparkling drinks, and games on the Wrinkle Machine Wii. Off I went to the grocery store this morning to get supplies. As I drove along in my Volvo without either makeup or a shower, I started to reflect on New Year’s Eves past.
You see, back in the day, before I had a child at an inappropriately young age, I was a whole bucket of fun. Sometimes drama, sometimes mischief, but never, ever boring. To give you a taste, here is a smattering of the ways I spent my pre-child NYEs.
- 1998: Had my very first kiss. At midnight, with literal fireworks going off at the same time.
- 2000: Shocked my super-uptight non-drinking high school friends by getting blazingly drunk at a party. Night ended with my 5 foot tall friend driving me to a coed sleepover in my then-boyfriend’s Jeep Wrangler.
- 2002: College party with my college friends. Spent the night making out with a H-O-T stranger named Tom. A few weeks later, Tom announced he was gay.
- 2005: On a whim (i.e. booked my flight the day before), flew to Boston to spend NYE with the Ex. Who was already “the Ex” at the time.
- 2006: Fat and pregnant on a futon. Courtesy of the Ex.
Since then? I’ve slowly descended into abject lameness. Last year, in an effort not to spend NYE sitting on my own couch, I went to a party at my next door neighbors house. And proceeded to sit on their couch. This year, I am giving up the facade.
As I made my way through the grocery check-out line, I chatted with the sixty-year old cashier about the NYE dangers and how no one in their right mind would go out of their house. When I handed her my credit card, I realized she had not IDed me for my $2 bottle of bubbly. I was tempted to whip out my ID anyway, letting her know that I was still young and still hip. But as I handed her my coupon for 50 cents off tortilla chips, I knew it was pretty far from the truth.
*** Wishing you a happy, healthy, and SAFE New Year! ***