Clever titles elude me in 2008

“There was an interesting statistic that I found just before the event. I have not had a date for New Years in 10 years. The last time I went out with a girl for New Years was with xxxxx in 97 and that was to her church group in Brenham.”

“Oh yeah”, I responded. “I can top that. I haven’t had a date for New Years in 31 years”

Yeah, that’s right, no date for me on that high-pressure night, second only to Valentine’s Day in anxiety to have a date or at least someone to kiss. In fact, I have been trying to remember if I’ve even been properly kissed at the stroke of midnight. And besides a few nights ago when I grabbed the guy behind me at the bar and planted one square on his lips just for kicks (no tongue, you dirty monkeys) I can’t think of another instance. You’d think this would bother me but for some reason it doesn’t. I mean, I certainly wouldn’t mind, but NYE has become one of the most pressure-induced nights ever. You MUST have a good time. You MUST have more fun than you’ve had all year. You must kiss someone at the stroke of midnight. On and on and on. I call bullshit. I mean, it’s just another night to go out. The world doesn’t spin off it’s axis at midnight, the Y2K scare is over, so other then having to put out a new calendar, this night should be like any other. It’s a racket I tell you. A racket so that normal bars can charge exorbitant amounts to get in. A racket so that you will buy new, fancy clothes to go out in (because if the world does happen to spin off it’s axis, you damn well better make sure you look cute as earth is hurtling towards the sun). I admit, I fall for much of it. I DID purchase a new outfit. In my defense it was a little black dress so with any luck I’ll be able to wear it on other occasions (saaaaaay, a fancy date? Please?) I did spend ten whole dollars to get into a bar that’s normally free (we avoided the $50, $100, and $150 bars this year). So yes, I am a sucker too.

BUT, I did get a group of girls that are cynical about NYE to go out with me. I tried to explain that it was just like any other night and if you go in with low or no expectations you’ll be way better off (um, I realize this is also how I approach my dating life). So we went. And guess what…we ALL had fun! We danced (some of us more than others), drank (again, some of us more than others) and didn’t complain that we were packed in like sardines (me, mainly because I wasn’t wearing a grey ‘armpit sweat’ shirt). We sang along with the band, even being handed the microphone once or twice and told a few guys to ‘bug off’ who were annoying (we were not THAT desperate for kisses). Some of the normal photographer friends were not there which left me in charge of taking pictures. The resulting 10 pics can be seen on Flickr to the left. As you can see there are no full-body shots because we were so crammed in there. I was doing well not to just be taking pictures of one eye or a nose.

After almost closing the bar down, we did the requisite trip to IHOP and I drove everyone home. I didn’t get home until almost 4:00 but was surprisingly chipper the next morning. The chipperness was tempered when I realized a) I had to go back to work the next day and b) the diet started today. But I watched a marathon of Biggest Loser on Bravo and got re-inspired. If these people can lose 10 pounds in a week, who’s to say I can’t as well. I kid, I kid, but it was inspiring and I am officially calling the holidays over and putting a nail in that coffin. No.more.sugar. must.work.out.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

PS I forgot to mention! While we were there, they guy I had smooched and I were hitting it off. He was cute, and asked me to dance. We’re on the dance floor along with my friends and said he had to take a break and would I be there when he got back. Yup. So he left. When he got back the band was taking a break and a bunch of us girls were dancing on the stage (it was a small stage, no go-go dancing here). He started walking towards me but then focused on a bleached blond who was standing directly in front of me down on the dance floor. And then….he started hitting on her! Even though he had seen me and I was RIGHT THERE! My eyes got kinda wide and I was thinking ‘huh?’ but then kept on shaking my booty to Sir Mixx A Lot. Well, after about 3 minutes she blew him off. Then he looked up at me and I turned around. Ha ha! I think he then realized he had just killed all the play he was potentially getting for the night. Later on in the night I saw him, stopped, touched his arm, smiled and said “that’s what you get for going for the blond instead of the brunette” and then walked away. Love.it.