Ahhhh, a new year is upon us. Every year, in the weeks leading up to January 1st, I make a list of approximately 8-15 resolutions, since I like to give myself options. Historically, I keep about 3 of them, which I think is somewhat commendable. This year I made 19, and I think the increase is a result of previous, unfulfilled resolutions, compounding themselves into one giant, daunting list. If I am able to keep all of them, I will be the healthiest, happiest, richest, most Zen person on planet earth. So far, I'm easing into things. I like to give myself a grace period to begin these arduous tasks, since the beginning of a new year always falls inconveniently in the midst of my mid-winter melancholy.
It's been many years since I celebrated New Year's Eve in the traditional sense. Back in 1999, when I still lived back East, my roommate and I decided it would be fun to spend NY's Eve at the house of a platonic guy friend who lived on a local college campus with 4 other dudes. We wore the requisite slutty dresses and proceeded to drink $5 "champagne" straight out of the bottle all night. When midnight arrived, I peered out through my drunken haze and grabbed the first semi-attractive guy I saw and kissed him. Mission accomplished. I then spent the remainder of the night pretending to be passed out, so that he would lose interest in me and go find a conscious drunk girl to date rape. Oh, to be 21 again.
Fast forward to my 2nd year in Colorado... some friends from work and I decided it would be fun to go downtown to ring in the New Year. So, we got off work around 10:30, changed into our completely-inappropriate-for-20-degree- weather dresses, and paid an underage busboy to drive us downtown and drop us off. We then paid a $15 cover to get into a club I wouldn't walk into for free on a normal day, and spent half an hour elbowing our way to the bar to get 3oz of complimentary "champagne" with which to toast at midnight. After the toast, the bartenders began spraying all of us with bar hoses and telling us to leave. I distinctly remember standing outside on the street corner, unable to feel my extremities, desperately trying to hail a cab. I was not drunk, I had not had fun and now I was apparently never going to get home. After about 20 minutes, in a daring and effective move, I threw myself on the hood of a cab that had slowed down in traffic. "Get in!" I yelled to my friends, "We're leaving!!"
Since then, I have spent the majority of NY's Eve's at home, sober as a Mormon, watching When Harry Met Sally. And even though we are only 9 days in, I'd like to propose a toast to me and my good decision making thus far in 2013, because let me tell you... there have been more than a few opportunities for me to start this year off in much the same fashion as the last few.
When the chance to hook up with an ex presented itself, I put down my 3rd glass of scotch and said "NO! That is a bad idea." When I started feeling lonely and decided that perhaps I would casually text a former fling, I threw my phone across the room and shouted "NO! No good can come of that." And when a friend tried to convince me to get in a fight with some awful girls, I said "NO! They're not worth it." Then, I proceeded to dance the night away.
You know what guys? I think maybe I'm finally a grown-up.
