As promised, I am delivering the story of my crazy New Year’s celebration. First let me say, any New Years I have had in the past were strictly PG-13. When I was younger, it usually entailed going to Bayside with my family to be on the beach, play the boardwalk games and see the fireworks. As I got older it usually meant being at a conference with about 20,000 strangers, very anti-climactic. For once I wanted a stereotypical night of drinks, party hats, dancing and an entire room full of people counting down and kissing each other when the ball drops. I wanted the last scene from “When Harry Met Sally.” Well, let me tell you, we are not in the early 90s my friend. All that PG-13 crap has flown out the window.
The night started off pretty innocently. My friend came over to my house to change after work. We both had a glass of pink champagne and headed out to a place called Kelly’s to meet up with some people. When we arrived the night was in full swing. Everyone was dressed up and decked out in New Year’s Eve garb. My friend and I got ourselves a drink and joined the fun. Apparently, we were late to the drinking game cause while we were completely sober-minded, others were so piss drunk they couldn’t even tell you their own names. I’m talking super sloppy, which is not really my scene. About twenty minutes in, I’m getting pulled onto the dance floor by some drunk rando that grabbed my arm as I was talking to my friend. I was about two seconds from tasering him when this blonde girl he was with whispered in my ear, begging me to save her and just dance with him once. I decided to do her a favor so, here I am with a completely stranger too wasted to tell me his name when I asked and he’s swinging me around on the dance floor. Meanwhile, I’m looking at my friends like, “why did I agree to this?” Apparently, my face was so priceless, my friend took a picture and posted in on social media without my knowledge. Later on, another drunk guy rams into my friend and proceeds to try and apologize, but all I got was “You guys are hot….” slur, slur, slur.
Midnight rolls around and by this time I have two drinks and a Jello shot in me, so when a friend of a friend, whom I had just met asks for a kiss, I consent. Totally not my personality. Confession time: I haven’t kissed a guy in like three years, maybe longer, before this night. I guess I just thought I was overdue. HUGE MISTAKE! It was mediocre, at best. Moving on, we decided to leave to another spot across the street, but not before one of the people in our group gets a penis hat from the balloon animal guy. At this point, I am having a good time, but officially out of my comfort zone.
Finally, we ended the night at this really sketchy gay bar where we went to dance. I expected “Birdcage,” I got something entirely different. Proof of my naivety and total lack of experience. This place was so not on the level, at one point some random stranger walked up to me on the dance floor and asked me if I or any of the people I was with had cocaine. Time to go. Shamefully, this is where I kissed the friend of a friend again. I thought maybe the first time was a fluke, it wasn’t.
All in all, waking up the next day I harbored regrets. Though I did not get drunk, not even close, I kissed a random nobody and it just wasn’t me. And that’s just it, I have to be true to myself. I am a good girl through and through and for the first time, I’m not only proud of it, I prefer it. I have walked on the wild side and I find I would rather be at home reading a book and knitting. Don’t get me wrong, I like going out and will continue to do s , in moderation; but “going out” for me looks very different than it does for most; and I discovered I am more than okay with that.